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The   hidden  hand 
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I^NCER'S  UNIVERSAL  STAGE. 


No.    48. 


HE   p[iDDEN    Hand. 


A  ©pama  ?«i  F??@  A©t«* 


BY      ROBERT      J  O  IST  E  S 


B  0  S  T  0  N  : 

GEOF^GE     M.     BAKER    &    CO. 

41-45  Franklin  Street. 


Vi'ETSUr     PLAYS. 

Uncle  Robert.     Comedy  in  Tliree  Acts.    7  male,  1  female  character. 
The  "Wife*  Secret.     Play  in  Five  Acts.    9  male,  3  fenmle  characters. 
The  Vlrsinla,  Veteran.     Drama  in  4  Acts.    11  male,  4  female  characters. 


SPEITCER'S  UNIVERSAL  STAGE. 

^    A  Collection  of  COMEDIES,  DRAMAS,  and  FARCES,  adapted  to  either  Public 
or  Private  Performance.     Couiaining  a  full  description  of  all 
the  necessary  Stage  Business. 


miCE,   15  CENTS  EA.CH.    l^^  No  Tlayf  exchanged. 


2. 


3. 


-^  4. 


I 


2 


>    8. 


nio 


liost  fn  XiOndon.  A  Drama  hi 
Three  Acts.  G  Mule,  4  Female  char- 
acters. 

IVicholas  Flam,  A  Comedy  in  Two 
Acts.  By  J.  B.  Buckstone.  5  Male, 
3  Female  characters. 

Tlie  WelsSk  Girl.  A  Comedy  in 
One  Act.  By  Mrs.  Plandhe.  3  Male, 
2  Female  characters. 

John  '^Vopps.  A  Fai-ce  in  One  Act. 
By  W.  E.  Suter.  4  Male,  2  F.-male 
characters. 

Tlie  Turlcisli  Bath.  A  Farce  in 
One  Act.  By  Montague  Williams 
and  F.  C.  Burnand.  0  Male,  1  Fe- 
male character. 

The  Two  Puddifoots.  A  Farce 
in  One  Act.  By  J.  M.  Slorton.  3 
Male,  3  Female  characters. 

Old  Honesty.  A  Comic  Drama  in 
Two  Acts.  By  J.  M.  Morton,  5 
Male,  2  Female  characters. 

Two  Gentlemen  in  a  Fix.  A 
Farce  in  One  Act.     By  W.  E.  Suter. 

2  Male  characters. 
Smashinston  Goit.    A  Farce  in 

One  Act.  By  T.  J.  Williams.  5  Male, 

3  Female  characters. 
Two  Heads  Better  thanOne.   A 

Farce  in  One  Act.  By  Lenox  Home. 

4  Male,  1  Female  character. 
11.  John  I>obb8.    A  Farce  in  One  Act. 

By  J.  M.  Morton.    6  Male,  2  Female 
characters. 

The  Daughter  of  the  RcKi* 
ment.  A  Drama  in  Two  Acts.  By 
Edward  Fitzball.  6  Male,  2  Female 
characters. 

Aunt  Charlotte's  Itlald.  A  Farce 
in  One  Act.  By  J.  M.  Morton.  3 
Male,  3  Female  characters. 

Brother  Bill  and  Mc.  A  Farce  in 
One  Act,  By  W.  E.  Suter.  4  Male, 
3  Female  characters. 

'^  15.  I>one  o<n  Both  Sides.  A  Farce  in 
One  Act.  By  J,  M.  Morton.  3 
Male,  2  Female  characters. 

T*undnck;etty'8  Picnic.    A  Farce 
in  One  Act.    By  T.  J.  Williams. 
Male,  3  Female  chafacters. 

I've  -written  to  Brotvne.  A  Farce 
in  One  Act.  By  T.  J,  Williams.  4 
Male,  3  Female  characters. 


12. 


13. 


14. 


1/. 


^ 


18.  ^.ending  a  Hand.  A  Farce  in  One 
Act.      By  G.  A,  A'Becket.     3  Male, 

2  1-  emale  characters. 

11).  My  Precious  Betsy.  A  Farce  in 
One  Act  By  J.  M,  Slorton.  4  Male, 
4  Feni.ii.  characters. 

20.  MyTurnXext.  A  Farce  in  One  Act. 

By  T.  .1.  Williams.  4  Male,  3  Fe- 
male cini-j.-ters. 

21.  Nine  Po!^i<  »  of  the  Law,  A  Com- 

edy in  -.Ml.-  Act.  By  Tom  Taylor. 
4  Male,  .>  I'emale  characters.     . 

22.  The    Pluantont    Breakfast.      A 

Farce  in  One  Act.  By  Charles  Sel- 
by.    3  Male,  2  Female  characters. 

23.  I>andelions  Bodges.    A  Farce  in 

One  Act.  By  T.  J.  Williams.  4 
Male,  2  Female  characters. 

24.  A  Slice  of  Luck.     A  Farce  in  One 

Act.  1  -  J.  M.  Morton.  4  3Iale,  2 
Female  c^^.^acter6. 

25.  Always  Intended.    A  Comedy  in 

One  Act,  }iy  Horace  Wigan.  3 
Male.  3  Female  characters. 

26.  A  Bull  in  a  China  Shop.  A  Com- 

edy in  Two  Acts.  By  Charles  Mat- 
thews. 6  Male,  4  Female  characters. 

27.  Another  Glass.    A  Drama  in  One 

Act,    By  Thomas  Morton.    6  Male, 

3  Female  characters. 

28.  Bo-wled  Out,    A  Farce  in  One  Act. 

By  H.  T.  Craven.  4  Male,  3  Female 
characters. 

29.  Cousin  Tom.    A  Commedietta  in 

One  Act,  By  George  Roberts.  3 
Male,  2  Female  characters. 

30.  Sarah's  YouMg  Man.    A  Farce  in 

One  Act.  By  W.  E.  Suter.  3  3Iale, 
3  Female  characters. 

31.  Hit  Him,  He  has  No  Friends. 

A  Farce  in  One  Act.  By  E.  Yates 
and  N,  H,  Harrington.  7  Male,  3 
Female  characters. 

3?-  The  Christening,  A  Farce  in  One 
♦  id.  By  J.  B.  Buckston*.  5  Male, 
d  Female  characters. 

3b.  A  Race  for  a  TVidoiv.  A  Farce 
in  One  Act.  By  Thomas  J,  Wil- 
liams,   u  Male,  4  Female  characters, 

?^  Your  Life's  in  Banker,  A  Farce 
^  in  One  Act.  By  J.  ">!.  Morton.  3 
^       Male,  3  Female  characters. 

3i,  True  unto  Beath.  A  Drama  in 
Two  Acts.  By  J.  .Slieridan  Knowles 
(5  Male,  2  Femuk-  ch:H-acters. 


(9 


(-> 


^ 


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J^OOOeXy  wO  L-O  ©OO^>CODQD£iOQ^^Q^Ck0CCZI4;  CCZ.'vL. 'O^  ^m^ZjC  CC 


THE   HIDDEN    HAND. 


%  §xnmn, 

IN    FIVE    ACTS. 


ADAPTED  FROM  SIES.  E3IMA  D.  E.  N.  SOUTHWOKTE'fi 

CELEBRATED  NOVEL  OF  THE  SAME  NAME, 

PUBLISHED  IN  THE  NEW  YORK 

LEDGER. 


BY    ROBERT    JONES. 


CAST  OF  CHARACTERS,  STAGE  BUSINESS,  ETC.,  ETC., 
CORRECTLY   MARKED. 


BOSTON: 
GEO.    M.    B/VKER    &    CO. 


g     i  il«iiliil||liip.r 


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THE   HIDDEN   HAND. 


ACT   I. 


SCENE  1.     TliG  Hudson  Biver  liailroad  Depot,  Kew  TorTt.— 
Apple-woman's  stand,  r.  ii.  —  People  passing  and  re-passing.  — 

^       Four-cent  Man,  news-hoys,  &c.,  discovered.  — Music.  — Harrt 

tl       Willing  and  Gentleman  Dick  enter,  l.  2  e.  —  Policeman 

**•       crosses  from  ii.  to  l.,  icatching  them. 

>- 

g       Newshotj.  Buy  a  paper,  sir?  'crakl  and  Ledger. 

t«       Dick  (r.)  No  ;  get  out.  I  never  patronize  tlic  papers,  because 

'£2   they're  down  upon  our  frateruit)%     But,  Harry,  this  is  dull 

-^   worl^.    I  haven't  taken  a  trick  to-day. 

Harry  (l.)   Nor  I  either.     The  greenies  are  scarce,  now. 
What  few  do  come  to  town  are  warned  so  much  by  tlie  news- 

^     papers  that  we  don't  stand  the  ghost  of  a  chance  to  make  a 

^     living.    If  this  thing  goes  on  much  longer,  I  shall  starve  to 

^     death. 

^        Dick.  Not  a  bit  of  it,  my  boy.     Have  courage.     Our  country 

owes  us  a  living;  and  if  she  don't  find  me  one,  it  won't  be  my 

fault.     (Dming  tJiis,  the  cars  have  passed  into  the  depot.  —  Bell 

now  rings.)    Ah,  there's  the  cars.    Come  along,  and  let's  see  if 

,    we  can't  find  a  victim. 

^    {^Tliey  exit,  l.  n.  2  e.  —  ^  number  of  hackmen  cross  from  r.  to  l., 
encountering  Major  Warfield,  who  enters,  l.  2  e.,  surrounded 

^5        andfolloioed  by  newsboys,  porters,  hackmen,  <Cc.) 

O       Hackman.   St.  Nicholas,  Metropolitan,  La  Farge,  and  Ever- 

CQ    ett  House,  sir? 

lu       Hurricane.  No ;  confound  you ! 

^        Newsboy.  Carry  your  portmanteau,  sir? 

'j       Hur.  Get  out,  you  rascals !    I'll  see  you  hanged  first.    Out 
-/    of  the  way,  or  I'll  break  your  head,  sirrah.     {Stinking  about  at 
random,  with  his  portmanteau,  he  drives  them  off,  l.  2  e.)    Phew ! 
they  don't  rob  me,  if  I  know  it.    Well,  here  I  am,  on  a  wild- 
goose  chase,  I  suppose ;  and  yet  old  Nancy  Grewel  must  have 

S 


^iL  -j£i  s^  _,!i_  '^fr.;'  \J 


f  THE  HIDDEN  HAND.  [ACT  JU 

spoke  the  tnith  about  the  child.     If  it  be  so,  Gabriel  Lc  Noir, 
better  you  had  ^st  yourself  down  from  the  highest  rock  of  the 
range,  than  thus  have  fallen  into  my  power. 
{During  this,  Capitola  has  entered.  —  She  is  dressed  in  rags,  as  a 

newsboy,  and  has  a  bundle  of  neiospapers  under  her  arm.  —  She 

goes  to  apple-stand,  buys  an  apple,  munches  it,  and,  by  the  end 

0/ Hukkicaxe's  speech,  advances  to  him.) 

Capitola  (advances).  Please,  sir,  do  you  want  your  carpet- 
bag carried  ? 

Hur.  Good  gracious !  this  must  be  crown  prince  and  heir 
apparent  to  the  king  of  shreds  and  patches. 

Cap.  Well,  governor,  if  you've  looked  long  enough,  per- 
haps you'll  knoAY  me  next  time. 

Hur.  O  Lord !  he  looks  as  if  he'd  never,seen  soap  and  water 
in  all  his  life.     I  reckon  111  give  you  the  job,  my  son. 

Cap.  O  crickey !  his  son;  my  governor's  turned  up  at  last! 
Do  you  hear  that,  fellows?  (2b  neiosboys,  icho  have  been  pass- 
ing on  and  off  all  through  this  scene.)  I  always  had  an  impres- 
sion that  I  had  a  father,  at  some  period  of  my  life;  and  here  he 
is.  Who  knows  but  what  I  might  have  had  a  mother  also? 
How's  the  old  woman,  sir? 

Hur.  What  are  you  talking  about,  you  infatuated  tatterde- 
malion !  If  it  wasn't  for  pity,  demme  —  demmc  —  I'd  have  you 
put  in  the  pillory. 

Cap.  Thank'ee,  sir,  I  have  not  had  a  pillow  under  my  head 
for  a  long  time. 

Hur.   Silence,  ragamuffin ! 

Cap.  Just  so ;  a  dumb  girl  is  better  than  a  talking  one. 

Hur.   Boy.  do  you  know  such  a  place  as  Rag  Alley  ? 

Cap.  Do'l?    Don't  I?    There's  the  very  place.    {Points  t^.) 

Hur.   There  ?    Why,  that's  a  handsome  street. 

Cap.  That's  it  though ;  but 'taint  called  Rag  Alley  now;  it's 
Eifalutin  Terrace.  Them  tenements  you  talk  of  was  pulled 
down  more'u  a  year  ago,  and  those  houses  put  up  in  their 
place. 

Hur.   And  what  became  of  the  original  tenants? 

Cap.  (spouting).  "Ask  of  the  winds  that  for  miles  around, 
with  fragments  strewed  the  sea !  "  Oh !  blowcd  away ;  thrown 
away  with  the  rest  of  the  rubbish. 

Hur.  Humph,  demme,  then  the  trace  is  lost.  But  let  me 
see  that  I  am  right.  (Takes  out  paper,  and  reads:  *'  Go  to  New 
York — find  out  a  family  by  the  name  of  Simmons,  who  resides  in 
Hag  Alley —  Kith' them  you  will  find  the  child.")  So  I  am  cor- 
rect. What  shall  I  do  now,  — advertise  iu  the  papers,  or  apply 
to  the  police  ?  I'll  do  both.  Yes,  I'll  go  at  once.  Here,  boy  (to 
Capitola),  carry  ray  portmanteau  up  to  the  Astor  House;  and 
there's  for  your  trouble.     (Gives  her  a  dollar.  —  Crosses  to  n.) 

Cap.  (aside).  Why,  lord,  it  can't  be;  he  must  have  made  a 
mistake.  What  if  he  did?  I  don't  care.  Yes  I  do,  though, 
bonor  bright  —  I  say,  governor? 


Scene  1.]  the  hidden  hand.  8 

Iliir.   Well,  my  lad. 

Cap.  You've  been  and  gone  and  give  me  a  whole  dollar,  by 
mistake.  # 

Huv.  IIow  the  devil  do  you  knovr  it's  a  mistake,  you  monkey 
you?    Take  it,  and  be  off  Avitli  you. 

Cap.  Stay,  governor,  don't  tempt  me,  because  you  see  I'm 
not  sure  I  could  keep  honest  if  I  was  tempted  too  hard.  I 
know  you're  from  the  country,  and  I  must  not  impose  upon 
your  ignorance. 

JIar.   My  ignorance  —  demme  —  you  impudent  villain ! 

Cap.  Yes,  you  aint  cut  your  eye-teeth  yet;  you  aint  up  to 
snuff;  you  don't  know  nothing;  it's  lucky  you  fell  in  with  an 
honest  lad  like  me,  that  would  not  impose  upon  your  inno- 
cence.    Why,  the  usual  price  isn't  more  than  a  dime. 

Ilur.  What  do  I  care  for  the  usual  price,  you  — you  —  prod- 
igy of  patches.  There,  there's  au  eagle  for  your  lionesty ;  and 
for  the  Lord's  sake  get  yourself  a  decent  suit  of  clothes.  {Gives 
monei/.) 

Cap.  lie's  mad !  I  wonder  who  his  keeper  is  ?  —  Thank  you, 
sir.  I"ll  go  and  tell  the  police  to  keep  an  eye  on  him.  I  say, 
fellows,  come  along;  I'll  stand  the  coffee  and  cakes.  Here's 
the  Herald,  Tribune,  and  Ledger, 

{Exits,  L.  1  E.  carryinfj  the  portmanteau,  and  followed  by  the  news- 
hoys.  —  The  apple-woman  on  n.  now  moves  off  slowly,  r.  2  e., 

with  her  stand.) 

Hiir.  Demme,  I  wouldn't  have  believed  it;  — honesty  in  the 
streets  of  New  York.  Why,  I've  heard  tliat  a  stranger  is  cer- 
tain to  be  plucked  by  the  sharpers  who  infest  the  streets;  and 
here  I  liave  a  positive  contradiction.  Now  then,  for  the  Police 
Court.  'Tis  there  I  must  seek  my  information,  now. 
{As  he  is  going  ojf,  n.  ir.  I  i:.,  Gentleman  Dick,  dressed  as  a 

3Iethodist  parson,  and  fjlluwed  by  Harry,  disguised  as  a  porter, 

enters  hastily,  l,  2  e.) 

Dick  {to  Hurricane).  Sir.  my  dear  sir,  I  beg  pardon;  but 
could  you  oblige  me  with  change  for  a  twent3'-dolKar  bill?  I  am 
about  to  leave  by  the  next  train,  and  I  wish  to  give  this  good 
man  live  dollars.  You'll  oblige  me  much  if  you  can  accommo- 
date me. 

Hur.  Oh,  certainly,  sir ;  with  the  greatest  pleasure.  (  Takes 
out  pocket-book.')  There,  sir,  two  lives  and  a  ten.  Will  that 
suit? 

Dick.  Thank  you,  sir.  At  any  time  I  can  return  the  favor, 
command  me.  My  card,  sir.  Should  you  be  in  our  part  of  the 
city,  shall  be  glad  to  have  you  call  upon  rae.  (  7o  Harry)  There, 
my  good  man.  {Gives  him  a  bill.)  Now  then,  quick,  or  I  shall 
*ose  the  cars.  {Exit,  hastily  l.  2  e.,  with  H^uoiY.  —  People  an 
crossing,  during  this,  at  back.) 

Hur.  (reads  card).   Reverend  Zebediah  Hawkins.    Really  a 
very  respectable  gentleman.    If  I  have  time,  I'll  call  upon  him 
1* 


6  '  THE  niDDEX  IIAITD.  [ACT  L 

Now  then,  for  the  Police  Court.     (^Ue  exits,  r.  1  e.  —  Music.  — 
Four-cent  Man  enters,  r.  2  e.) 

F.  C.  Man.  (o^sses  to  c.)  Anything  on  the  board  for  foui 
cents. 

Enter  woman,  l.  1  e. 

Woman  (takes  up  tooth-brush).  "What's  the  price  of  this  tooth- 
brush? 

F.  C.  Man.   Tweuty-five  cents,  ma'am. 

Woman.  Why,  didn't  you  say  anything  on  the  board  four 
cents? 

F.  C.  Man.  Yes,  ma'am;  but  that's  in  your  hand.  Second- 
hand ones  half  price.  (  Woman  throics  dov:n  brush  on  board,  in- 
difjnantly,  and  exits,  r.  1  e.  —  Four-cent  Man  exits,  l.  2  e.,  crying 
*'Ani/  article"  &c.' —  Music  co-ntimies  FP  until  scene  changes.) 

SCENE  2. — Interior  of  Police  Court,  in  the  Tombs.  —  Judge  and 
clerks  discovered.  —  Desk,  c.  —  Policeman.  —  Spectators  on  R. 
and  L.    At  opening  of  scene,  a  co'-fused  murmuring. 

Judge  (c.)   Order  in  the  court ! 

Hurricane  (^outside).  But  I  tell  you  I  wish  to  sec  the  Chief  of 
the  Police. 

Officer  (outside).  You'll  find  him  on  the  other  side  of  the  hall. 
(HuRPviCANE  enters,  r.  1  e.  —  A  noise  heard,  l.  1  e.,  and  Capi- 
tola's  voice.) 

Cap.  (outside).  I  tell  you  I  haiut  done  nothin'.  (Officer  draffs 
her  on,  followed  by  a  croicd  of  neicsboys.) 

Hur.  (r.)  Eh?  what's  this?  in  trouble,  ray  lad?  Come, 
pluck  up.    I'll  see  you  through. 

Officer.  Lad !  "VYhj^  Lord  bless  your  soul,  sir,  she's  a  girl,  in 
boy's  clothes.  ( 3o  C-\pitoi.a)  You  young  devil!  you  deserve 
to  "be  sent  up  for  three  months,  at  least.     (Shakes  her  roughly.) 

Hur.  (in  a  rage,  crossing  to  c.)  A  girl,  is  she?  Then,  dcrame, 
sir,  whether  in  boys'  clothes,  men's  clothes,  soldiers'  clothes, 
or  no  clothes  at  all,  treat  her  with  the  delicacy  due  to  woman- 
liood !  She  is  a  poor,  friendless  child ;  so  no  more  hard  words 
to  her,  or,  by  the  Everlasting!  I'll-^ 

Judge.   Order!  order! 

Hur.  (crossing  back  to  R.)  Yes,  judge,  I  will  keep  order,  if 
you'll  make  that  brute  of  a  policeman  reform  his  language. 

Cap.  Governor,  don't  keep  a  lettiu'  out  in  that  way  or  they'll 
commit  you  for  contempt. 

Hur.  i  plead  guilty  to  contempt.  I  suppose  they'll  imprison 
you  next.  But  they  sha'n't  do  it.  I,  Major  Wariield,  of  Vir- 
giuia,  tell  you  so,  my  boy  —  girl,  I  mean. 

Cap.   What  an  innocent  old  lion  you  are ! 

Judge.  Order  I  AVhat's  your  name,  my  lad  —  girl,  I  should 
say? 

Cap.   Capitola,  sir. 

Hur.  (aside).  Capitola— Capitola.    That's  the  name  of  the 


Scene  2.]  the  hidden  hand.  t 

child  I'm  after.  Can't  be  two  Capitolas  in  the  world.  Bt^t  ^'11' 
listen,  and  say  nothing-.     {.Takes  chair,  ii.) 

Judge.   Capitola  what? 

Cap.   Kotiiing,  sir.    I  aint  got  no  more  than  Capitola,  sir. 

Judge.  Who^is  your  fiithcr? 

Cap.  Never  had  none  that  I  knows  on,  sir. 

Judge.  Your  mother? 

Cap.  Never  had  a  mother,  sir,  as  ever  I  heard. 

Judge.    Where  do  you  live? 

Cap.   About  in  spots. 

liar.   O  Lord !  O  Lord ! 

Judge.   Order,  there !    What's  your  calling? 

Cap.  Sclliug  papers,  sweeping  crossings,  blacking  boots, 
and  so  on. 

Judge.  What  tempted  yon  to  put  yourself  in  boys'  attire? 

Cap.   Want,  sir,  and  — and  —  {sobbing)  —  danger. 

Hur,  Oh!  —  demme! — oh!  oh! 

Judge.  Order!  Give  a  clear  account  of  yourself ; — give  a 
clear  account,  now.    Go  on,  my  good  boy  —  girl,  I  mean. 

Hur.  (Jiastilij).  Yes,  demme,  go  on. 

Judge.   Will  you  keep  order,  sir?    Go  on,  girl. 

Cap.  It  isn't  much,  sir,  I  have  to  tell.  I  was  brought  up  in 
Eag  Alley,  by  an  old  woman  named  Nancy  Grewell.  I  never 
suffered  cold  or  hunger  until  about  eighteen  months  ago,  when 
Crranny  took  it  into  her  head  to  go  down  to  Virginia.  She 
never  came  back  again,  and  by  that  I  knew  she  must  have  died. 

Hur.  A\\\  poor  child!  poor  child! 

Cap.  AVell,  for  a  month  or  two  I  got  along  well  enough;  a 
poor  fiimily,  named  Simmons,  gave  me  shelter;  and  I  did  little 
odd  jobs  for  my  food,  till  at  length  they  moved  away  from  the 
city. 

Judge.  And  you  were  left  all  alone  ? 

Cap.  Yes,  sir,  in  the  empty  house,  till  it  should  be  rented  to 
another  tenant;  but  it  never  was  rented,  for  word  went  round 
that  the  whole  row  was  to  be  pulled  down,  and  so  I  had  leave 
to  stay  as  long  as  the  rats  did. 

Judge.  But  how  did^j-ou  get  your  bread,  now? 

Cap.  Didn't  get  it  at  all,  sir,  bread  was  too  dear.  I  sold  ray 
clothes,  piece  by  piece,  to  an  old  Jew;  bought  corn  meal,  and 
picked  up  chips  enough  to  make  a  fire,  and  cooked  a  little 
mush  every  day,  in  an  old  tin  can  I  found  in  the  house.  So  I 
lived  on  for  two  or  three  weeks;  then,  when  my  meal  was 
about  gone  I  commenced  and  made  gruel. 

Judge.  But  why  did  you  not  seek  for  something  to  do? 

Cap.  I  tried  every  hour  in  the  day ;  but  nobody  seemed  to 
want  me ;  some  laughed  at  me,  and  there  seemed  nothing  but. 
starvation  and  death  before  me. 

Hur.  O  Lord!  O  Lord!  that  such  things  should  be,  in  a 
Christian  land ! 

Judge.  Will  you  keep  order,  sir  ? 


B  THE  HIDDEN  llAJ^.  [ACT  !■ 

Cap.  But  there  was  ^Yorsc  behind ;  there  came  a  day  when 
my  meal  icas  all  ^£?one ;  then  I  kept  life  in  me  by  drinking  water, 
and  sleeping  all  I  could.  One  morning  I  was  waked  up  by  a 
great  noise ;  I  staggered  to  my  feet,  and  there,  sir,  were  the 
workmen  pulling  down  tlic  house  over  my  head.  Friglit  gave 
me  strength  to  run  from  it,  and  tlien  I  paused  and  looked ;  the 
last  shelter  was  gone  from  me,  so  I  thought  I'd  go  and  pitch 
myself  into  the  river. 

Judge.  That  was  a  wicked  thought,  girl. 

Caj-).  I  know  it  was.  Well,  sir,^the  hand  -that  feeds  the  ra- 
vens kept  me  from  dying  that  daj'.  I  found  a  five-cent  piece, 
bought  a  muffin,  and  when  niglit  came  I  liid  myself  behind  a 
pile  of  planks  in  a  lumber  yard.  I  slept  till  morning.  Well, 
not  to  tire  your  honor,  I  lived  on  my  half  dime,  spending  a 
cent  adav',  and  sleeping  sometimes  under  t!ie  stoop  of  a  house, 
sometimes  in  the  lumber  yard,  but  always  in  danger  from  bad 
men  and  boys;  but  (sobbinr/)  I  took  care  of  mj'self,  {fiercely^ ; 
yon  mustn't  any  of  you  dare  to  think  but  what  I  did. 

Officer.     Oh,  of  course  you  did  — of  course.     Ha,  ha,  ha! 

Hiir.  (starts  vp,  and  crosses  to  c.)  What  do  you  mean  by  "  Of 
course,"  you  villain?  Demme,  111  swear  she  did;  and  if  any 
man  dares  to  hint  otherwise,  I'll  ram  his  falsehood  down  his 
throat  with  my  walking-stick,     {llircatcninr/.') 

Judge.  Order!  order,  I  say! 

Hur.  {crosses  to  k.)  Yes,  judge,  I'll  regard  order.  But  if  the 
Court  doesn't  protect  the  child  from  insult,  I  will,  order  or  na 
order,  demme !     (Sits.) 

Cap.  Governor,  don't  be  so  noisy,  or  they  will  put  you  in  the 
stone  jug.  Why,  you  remind  me  of  an  old  fellow  granny  used 
to  talk  about,  —  old  Hurricane  they  called  him,  because  he  was 
so  stormy. 

Hur.   Ha,  ha !  she's  heard  of  me,  then. 

Cap.  Well,  your  honor,  when  my  last  penny  was  gone,  a 
bright  thought  struck  me.  I  wondered  why  I  had  been  so 
stupid  as  not  to  think  of  it  before,  so  I  ran  to  the  old  Jew's 
shop  and  swapped  my  suit  of  girl's  for  the  raggedest  suit  of 
boy's  clothes  he  had  in  the  shop.  I  went  into  that  shop  a  gii'l 
and  came  out  a  boy.  My  long  ringlets  he  gave  me  sixpence 
for. 

Hur.  Yes,  all  was  grist  that  comes  to  his  mill. 

Cap.  That's  so,  governor^  well,  that  night  I  slept  in  peace, 
behind  a  pile  of  boxes,  and  in  the  morning  I  found  plenty  to 
do ;  I  bought  papers  and  sold  'em,  carried  carpet-bags,  cleaned 
sidewalks,  and  did  anything  an  honest  lad  could  turn  his  hand 
to,  and  ror  more  than  a  year  I  was  happy  as  a  king.  This 
morning,  as  I  was  on  my  way,  governor,  with  your  portman- 
teau, tlie  wind  blowed  off  my  hat,  and  the  policeman  blowed 
on  me. 

Judge.  I'm  afraid  we  shall  have  to  send  her  to  the  House  of 
tiefuge. 


Scene  2.]  the  hidden  hakd.  9 

Hur.  (aside).  Demme  if  you  do,  though.    (To  Judge)  Judge, 
if  a  legal  guardian  appears  td  claim  this  girl,  may  she  not  ba 
delivered  into  his  hands  ? 
Judge.  Most  assuredly. 

Hur.  Then,  sir,  I,  Ira  Warfield,  of  Hurricane  Hall,  in  Vir- 
ginia, claim  this  girl,  Capitola  Black,  as  my  ward.  For  my 
personal  responsibility,  I  refer  you  to  the  proprietors  of  the 
Astor  House,  who  have  known  me  for  years. 

Judge.  It  is  not  necessary,  Mr.  Warfield.  We  assume  the 
fact  of  your  responsibility,  and  deliver  up  the  girl  to  your 
charge. 

Hur.  I  thank  you,  judge.  Capitola,  will  you  go  down  to 
old  Virginia  with  me  ? 

Cajy.   Will  I?  won't  I?  because  I  know  you'll  be  kind  to  me. 
Hur.  Kind!    Ay,  that  I  will.    But  I  say,  I  shall  have  to 
trust  to  your  girl's  wit  to  get  yourself  into  your  proper  clothes 
without  exciting  further  notice. 

Cap.  All  right,  governor ;  there's  a  ready-made  clothing  shop 
at  the  "Needle-Woman's  Aid,"  round  the  corner.  I  can  go 
down  there  and  get  rigged  out. 

Hur.  Rigged  out!  Oh,  demme!  Well,  there's  a  twenty- 
dollar  bill.  Call  a  hack,  and  when  you've  got  everything  ar- 
ranged drive  back  to  the  Astor,  where  I  shall  be  to  receive  you. 
Good  morning,  judge.     (Going  r.) 

Cap.  I  say,  governor,  none  of  that,  now ;  it  won't  do.    You 
can't  come  tiiat  on  me. 
Hur.  Demme  !  what  do  you  mean? 
Cap.   Why,  this  bill  is  bogus !  — it's  queer  I 
Hur.  Bogus !  —  queer ! 

Cap.  It's  a  bad  bill.  Why,  don't  you  see,  Clara  Bank,  Coney 
Island. 
Hur.  But  I  received  it  from  a  most  respectable  individual. 
Cap.  Lor'  bless  your  green  soul !  you've  been  done ;  that  indi- 
vidual was  nothing  less  than  a  sharper;  I  shall  have  to  keep 
you  under  my  eye ;  you  aint  old  enough  to  take  care  of  your- 
self. 

Hur.  Oh,  the  Lorct!  I,  Ira  Warfield,  to  be  taken  in  by  a 
sharper!  I'll -- demme  —  let's  find  the  rogue!  (Spectators 
laugh.)  What  the  deuce  are  you  laugiiing  at,  you  villains  you? 
Laugh  at  me!  Come  along,  boy  — girlj^I  mean.  We'll  hunt 
this  rascal  up ;  and  if  I  find  him  I'll  ram  this  bill  down  his  con- 
founded throat  with  my  walking-stick.  (He  is  going  r.,  when 
Gentleman  Dick  enters,  still  dressed  as  the  parson,  r.  1  e.  —  ■ 
Hurried  mudc  till  end  of  act.)  Demme,  there  he  is !  (Seizes 
Dick,  throws  him  round  to  c,  and  belabors  him  with  cane.  —  The 
Judge  rises,  calling  "  Order!"—  Officer  endeavors  to  interfere.  — 
Capitola  j?(wj9s  on  stool.) 

Cap.  Go  it,  governor !  — two  to  one  on  the  gov.  (Wavea 
cap,  —  Act-<Irop  descends  rapidly.) 

End  op  Act  I. 


10  THE  HIDDEN  nAOT>.  [ACT  It 


ACT    II. 

SCENE  1.  —  A  cJiamber  in  Hurricane  Hall,  1st  G.  —  Music,  "  IFag 
down  in  Old  Virr/inny." 

Enter  Wool,  r.  1  e. 

Wool.  Yah,  yah !  'pears  to  me  ole  massa  isn't  right  in  his 
head-piece,  eber  since  lie  went  to  see  de  ole  witch,  and  den 
went  off  to  New  York;  and  now's  come  back  wid  a  young  gal 
dey  call  Miss  Catapiller.  Yah,  yah  !  golly,  dar's  a  name,  I  be- 
lieve you.  She's  bos  of  de  house,  now.  Ole  Missus  Cardimens 
aint  110  whar.  Don't  she  star  era  round,  I  b'lieve  you !  She 
aiut  no  fool,  she  aiut.  Well,  tings  is  altered  a  good  deal ;  and 
dem  as  libs  longest  will  see  de  most. 

Capitola  (iDithout).  Come  along,  governor. 

Enter  Capitola,  l.  1  e.,  dragging  Hurricane  by  both  hands,  and 
laughing. 

Hur.   She  —  shew !  you  witch !  stop,  will  you !  demme ! 

Cap.  Never  mind,  gov.,  it  will  do  you  good,  j'ou've  all  been 
asleep  in  this  old  house,  and  I  intend  to  wake  you  up  a  bit. 

Wool.  Yes,  I  believe  you.    Yah,  j-ah,  j^ah! 

Hur.  Well  now  tell  me,  Cap,  how  do  you  like  your  new 
home? 

Cap.  Oh,  gloriously !  What  a  jolly  place  it  is !  I  like  it  all  but , 
that  old  dingy  room  that  your  house-keeper  has  been  kind 
enough  to  put  me  in. 

Hur.  What,  the  old  room  in  the  east  wing,  eh?  I  tell  you 
what,  girl,  if  that  room  could  speak,  it  could  tell  many  a  queer 
tale.    There  is  a  trap-door  in  it. 

Cap.  A  trap-door!    Where? 

Hur.  In  front  of  the  fireplace,  beneath  the  hearth-rug.  But 
you  shall  have  another,  if  you  don't  like  that. 

Cap.  No,  no,  gov.,  you've  roused  my  curiosity,  and  I  rather 
think  I  shall  like  it. 

Wool.   More'u  I  should,  by  golly ! 

Cap.  Come,  let's  hear  all  about  it?  Is  there  a  cellar  under 
that  trap  ? 

Hur.  I  never  took  the  trouble  to  ascertain. 

Wool.   But  I  did,  massa  major;  I  found  out  all  about  it. 

Hur.   You,  you  black  scoundrel! 

Wool.  Yes,' I  believe  you.  You  see,  Mrs.  Condiment  told  I 
and  Pit-a-Pat  to  get  de  room  ready  for  Miss  Catapiller;  and 
while  we  was  doing  so,  dc  rug  was  moved.  I  seed  dar  was  a 
door  dar;  so  I  slips  de  bolt,  and  down  it  fell;  and  dere  I  saw  — 

^^;  I  Well,  what? 

Wool.  Nuffin  — 
Cav.  Nothing! 


•Scene  1.]  the  hidden  hand.  II 

Wool.  But  a  big  hole !  But  clat  isn't  all.  You  see,  I  got  a 
little  curious ;  so  I  got  a  lighted  stick  from  de  fire,  and  held  it 
down  as  far  as  I  could  reach ;  and  den  I  saw  — 

Cap.  Well,  what?  what? 

Wool.  Nuffin,  too. 

Hiir.  Why,  you  black  scoundrel,  do  you  call  that  finding  out 
all  about  it?  Demme,  sir,  none  of  your  jokes,  or  I'll  break 
your  confounded  thick  head  for  you. 

Cap.  There,  there,  that'll  do,  gov. ;  now  tell  me  all  about  the 
trap-door. 

llur.  Report  says  it  was  constructed  to  deceive  the  Indians. 
That  room  belongs  to  the  oldest  part  of  the  house ;  and  the 
first  owner  of  it  was  Henri  Le  Noir,  one  of  the  grandest  villains 
that  ever  lived.  They  say  it  has  an  outlet  that  reaches  to  the 
Devil's  Punch-bowl,  in  the  hills  over  yonder. 

Cap.  The  Devil's  Punch-bowl ! 

Wool.   1  shouldn't  like  to  drink  any  punch  out  of  dat  bowl. 

Ilur.  Yes,  a  hollow  that  drops  suddenly  in  the  hills,  in  the 
shape  of  a  punch-bowl;  long  the  resort  of  villains,  and  men  of 
the  worst  stamp.     Hence  its  name. 

Cap.  I  must  see  that  place. 

Hur.  What,  girl !  If  you  value  your  life,  avoid  that  spot. 
In  short,  I  command  you  never  in  all  your  rides  to  go  beyond 
the  base  of  the  hills.  • 

-  Cap.  Command;  come,  I  like  that,  gov.;  you  know  I'm  not 
used  to  being  commanded.  I  didn't  live  in  Rag  Alley  for  noth- 
ing, I  can  tell  you. 

Hur.  Rag  Alley !  Will  you  never  forget  that  home  of  rags 
and  tatters  ? 

Cap.  It  was  the  home  of  independence,  if  it  was  one  of  pov- 
erty ;  but  there,  we  won't  quarrel  about  it. 

iVool.  Better  not,  Miss  Catapiller.  De  massa's  de  debeJ 
when  he's  angry. 

Hur.  And  now,  you  jade,  I've  got  a  pony  I  intend  to  give 
you.    You  must  learn  to  ride. 

Cap.  I  learn  to  ride  ?  O  nunkey !  where  is  he  ?  let  me  see 
him.    I  shall  go  crazy  with  joy  I 

Wool.  Yes,  miss,  a  pony.    A  pony  is  a  young  horse. 

JIur.  Silence !  He's  on  the  lavrn,  yonder.  He's  rather  skit- 
tish. You'll  perhaps  get  a  fall  or  two ;  but  that'll  bring  yoo 
back  to  your  senses. 

Wool.  Don't  know  about  dat,  massa  major.  Don't  you  'mem- 
ber de  fnst  time  I  mount  him? 

Hiir.  1  do,  you  black  thief.  Ha,  ha,  ha !  he  pitched  you  over 
his  head  twenty  feet;  and  if  your  skull  hadn't  been  plaguy 
thick,  you  wouldn't  have  been  worth  a  picayune  this  day.  Re- 
member it?  Demme,  I  do.  I  never  laughed  so  much  in  all  my 
life.     (BatJi  laugh  heartily  at  Wool.) 

Wool.  Yes,  yes,  I  believe  you.  But,  I  say,  massa,  yea  re- 
member, also,  when  you  tried  your  hand  at  him  ? 


12  THE  HIDDEN  HAND.  [ACl  IL 

Hur.   AVhat  do  you  mean,  you  rascal  ?    If  you  dare  — 

Cap    Oh,  yes,  let's  have  it.     Tell  it,  Wool. 

Wool.  Vv'cll,  jest  make  massa  stand  closer  off.  Well,  you  see, 
he  rard  vip,  and  olo  massa  turned  a  summerset  over  into  de 
swamp;  and  dar  he  was,  wid  his  two  Ic^^s  standing  in  de  air, 
and  his  head  sticking  in  de  mud.  Golly,  how  de  niggers  did 
larf.  {During  this,  Huuricaxe  has  been  icorkinrj  himself  into  a 
tremendo7is  rage,  and  now  flings  his  cane  at  Wool,  icho  dodges  it, 
and  runs  off  J..  1  e.  —  CAnxoLA  has  icithheld  the  major,  laughing. 
—  Wool  re-enters.'}    Yes,  I  believe  you  !     {Disappears,  l.  1  e.) 

Hur.  The  black  scoundrel !  to  dare  to  laugh  at  me  !  The  — 
Egad,  I  don't  wonder  at  it;  for  there  I  lay,  like  a  shipwrecked 
tea-table.  Though  if  I  didn't  feel  so  happy  I'd  murder  the  ras- 
cal, demme. 

Cap.  And  are  you  really  happy,  gov.  ? 

Hur.  Don't  you  think  I  ought  to  be,  finding  two  lost  relations 
at  once?  Thougl^how  the  devil  I  stumbled  over  the  boy  Her- 
bert is  a  mystery  to  me. 

Cap.  Ah,  nunkey,  but  for  him  you  might  not  have  had  the 
pleasure  of  falling  in  with  me. 

Hur.  Pleasure,  madcap !  Do  you  really  think  it  fs  a  pleasure 
to  me? 

Cap.  Why,  haven't  I  kept  vou  all  alive  since  I  have  been 
here  ? 

Hur.  By  the  Lord  !  3'-ou've  turned  everything  topsyturvy ;  and 
as  to  Mrs.  Condiment,  hang  me  if  I  think  she  knows  whether 
she  stands  on  her  head  or  her  heels.    But  I  say,  Cap,  do  you'^ 
know  these  friends  that  Herbert  has  gone  to  visit  ?    Who  are 
they  ? 

Cap.  A  poor  widow  and  her  son,  w^ho,  when  his  mother 
died,  reared  him  as  their  own. 

Hur.  Noble  w^oman !  I'll  make  her  fortune  for  her ;  and  so 
I  told  Herbert  to  say  to  her. 

Cap.  Oh,  what  a  capital  old  gov.  you  are;  and  what  are  you 
going  to  do  for  rac? 

Hur.  Send  you  to  a  lunatic  asylum;  but  as  for  that  poor 
noble-heavted  widow,  I'll  —  I'll  — 

Cap.   Marry  her  yourself,  won't  you,  nunkey?    Ha!  ha!  ha! 

Hur.  Perhaps  I  will,  if  it's  only  to  keep  you  out  of  trouble  anrj 
lu  order,  you  baggage  you.  But  how  was  it  that  Herbert  never 
mentioned  the  name  of  these  good  people? 

Cap.  I  say,  gov.,  w'ait  till  he  comes  back,  and  then  see  how 
long  he  will  talk  of  them  Avithont  mentioning  their  names. 

Hur.  So  I  will,  Cap ;  so  I  will,  no  matter  what  the  name  may 
be.  She's  a  good  woman ;  and,  demme,  I'll  make  her  happy, 
and  place  her  above  want. 

Cap.  Over  my  head;  ch,  nunkey?    Ha,  ha,  ha  I 

Hur.  Silence,  you  monkey,  or  I'll  go  and  propose  to  her  at 
once. 

Cap,  Ha!  ha!  ha! 


Scene  2.]  the  hidden  hand.  13 

Hur.  Zounds  and  the  devil !  I'll  —  I'll  —  Here,  Wool  I 
(Wool  enters,  hastily,  l.  1  e.  —  Huericaxe  makes  a  blow  at  Mm 
with  his  cane,  ichich  he  avoids,  and  crosses  to  c.  —  IlURRICA^'^ 
goes  L.)    Go  to  the  devil,  you  black  imp !   [Exit,  in  rage,  l.  1  e. 

Wool.   After  you,  massa. 

C^r^.   Ha !  ha !  a  narrow  escape,  Wool. 

Wool.  Yes,  I  believe  you.     ,  [Exit,  L.  1  E. 

Caj).  What  a  fiery  old  i^ov.  he  is,  to  be  sure ;  but  I'll  tamo 
him  down,  I  warrant.  There's  no  fires  or  musses,  as  we  used 
to  have  in  Rag  Alley.  But  about  that  trap-door,  if  I  don't  find 
out  the  mystery  about  it,  if  there  is  one,  you  can  call  me  a 
spooney.  [Exit  l.  1  e. 

SCENE  2.  —  Log  kitchan  in  the  old  inn.  —  A  large  fireplace,  with 
fire,  L.  c.  —  Boor  inftat,  r.,  icith  hai  across  it.  —  Whole  appear- 
ance of  scene  dilapiidated.  —  Large  oak  table  r.  c.,  with  four 
chairs.  —  Feictcr  mugs,  stone  bottles,  &c.,  on  table.  —  Headlong 
Hal,  Stealthy  Steve,  and  Demon  Dick  discovered  at  table, 
•^  Bold  music. 

Hal.  I  wish  the  captain  would  come.  Where  can  he  have 
got  to  ? 

Steve.  Oh,  he's  gone  to  hear  the  people  talk,  and  fiind  out  what 
they  say  of  him. 

Hal.  I  shouldn't  think  it  would  require  much  seeking  that. 
But  what's  the  matter  with  Dick? 

Steve.   He's  in  a  bad  humor  to-night. 

Hal.  Was  he  ever  in  a  good  one?  (Whistle  heard. — All 
start.)  But  hush!  the  captain!  (3Iusic.  —  Goes  to  door  and 
opens  it.  —  Black  Don^vld  appears  disguised  as  a  Quaker.  — Men 
all  start  back  astonished.  —  Donald  enters,  throws  himself  into  a 
chair,  and  laughs.) 

Hal.  Captain,  I  don't  know  what  you  think  of  it,  but  I  think 
it's  just  as  churlish  to  lau2,h  alone  as  to  get  drunk  in  solitude. 

Donald  (c.)  Oh,  you  shall  laugh  too,  lads;  listen.  In  this 
meek  disguise  I  went  peddling  to-day. 

Hal  (r.)  Ay,  we  know,  but  have  a  care  you  don't  go  once 
too  often. 

Eon.  I  have  been  for  the  last  time,  and  where  think  you  I 
sought  for  trade?  Why,  in  the  very  paws  of  the  lion.  In  a 
word,  I  sold  cigars  and  smoking  caps  to  the  judge,  and  gold 
spectacles.     (Bises.) 

Hal  and  company.  No ! 

Don.  Yes! 

Hal  and  company.  Ha!  ha!  ha! 

Don.  Ay,  and  to  the  sheriff,  John  Eeefe,  I  ofifered  a  pair  of 
Bteel  handcufis  to  use  if  ever  he  caught  that  grand  rascal.  Black 
Donald. 

Hal.  And  what  said  he  ? 

Don.  That  he  had  some  hopes  of  taking  the  rascal  at  last.  I 
3 


14  THE  HIDDEN  HAND.  [ACT  ll 

told  him  it  would  be  a  grent  day  for  Alleghany,  aud  when  he 
was  hanged  I  would  endeavor  to  be  present  myself.  *'  Do,"  said 
he.  I  thought,  however,  it  was  time  to  be  off,  and  said,  "  thee 
had  better  let  me  sell  thee  these  handcuffs,  John.  I  will  show 
tliee  their  beautiful  machinery;  hold  out  thy  wrists,  John." 

Hal.  And  did  he? 

Do7i.  By  the  Lord  he  did  !  In  an  instant  I  snapped  them  on 
him,  and  shouting  my  name,  disappeared  before  he  had  col- 
lected his  faculties  and  discovered  his  position. 

Hal  and  company.   Ha!  ha!  ha!    (Whistle  heard.  —  AUpaiise.) 

Don.  (crosses  to  u.  of  table  and  sits).  Hush !  Devil  burn  ye ! 
There's  some  one  coming.  (Goes  to  door.  —  Gives  signal.  —  It 
is  answered  idUiout.)  It  is  Lc  Noir,  who  was  to  meet  me  here 
to-night  on  important  business. 

Hal.   The  colonel !     (Music.  —  Donald  opens  door,  r.  h.  f.) 

Enter  L|:  Noik,  at  door,  disguised  in  cloak. 

Le  Noir.  Donald,  I  would  have  a  word  with  you.  (Sits  l.  of 
table.) 

Don.  At  your  command,  colonel.  Leave  us,  fellows.  (Hal, 
Steve,  and  Dick,  exit  through  door  k.  1  e.)  You  seem  dis- 
turbed, colonel.     (Sits,  n.) 

Le  N.  Ay,  man,  I  am  disturbed.  I'm  suffering  from  the 
pangs  of  remorse.    • 

Don.  Remorse!     Ha!  ha!  ha! 

Le  N.  Not  for  those  acts  of  self-preservation  which  fanatics , 
would  call  crimes,  but  in  every  vein  of  my  soul  I  repent  not 
having  silenced  in  the  Hidden  House  that  old  woman  aud  the 
child  thirteen  years  ago. 

Don.  I  told  you  at  the  time  it  were  better  to  send  them  on 
a  longer  journey.  We  live  to  kill,  say  the  butchers ;  so  do  ice. 
The  world  Avas  made  for  the  strong  and  cunning. 

Le  N.   Donald,  that  child  has  returned  to  the  neighborhood. 

Don.   The  devil  she  has  ! 

Le  N.  Her  name  is  Capitola.  She's  the  living  image  of  her 
mother.  What  proofs  may  be  in  old  Warfield's  possession  I 
know  not.  All  that  I  have  discovered  is  that  old  Nancy  Grew- 
ell  returned ;  that  the  night  before  she  died  she  sent  for  Major 
Warfield,  had  a  long  interview  Avith  him,  and  that  shortly  af- 
terwards he  travelled  to  the  North  aud  brought  home  this  girl. 
Donald,  this  is  no  time  for  weakness;  this  girl,  this  Capitola, 

JIUST  DIE  ! 

Don.  That's  so,  colonel.  It's  a  pity  it  was  not  done  thirteen 
years  ago.  It's  easier  to  pinch  a  baby's  nose  than  to  stifle  a 
young  girl's  shrieks  and  cries. 

Lc'N.  I  know  there  will  be  additional  risks;  but  hark  ye  I 
the  day  you  bring  me  proof  that  Capitola  Le  Noir  is  dead,  one 
thousand  dollars  is  yours. 

Don.  Ha !  ha !  ha !  Capitola  Le  Noir  is  the  heiress  to  half  a 
million  of  dollars,  and  5'ou  offer  me,  to  put  her  out  of  the  way, 
one  thousand  dollars !     Ha!  ha!  hal 


SCEXE  3.]  THE  HIDDEN  HAND.  TS 

Le  N.  Villain !  the  government  does  not  value  your  whole 
carcass  at  more  than  I  offer  for  the  temporary  use  of  your 
hands. 

Don.  No  ill  names,  your  honor.  They  are  like  kicking  guns, 
apt  to  recoil. 

Le  N.  You  forget  you  are  in  my  power. 

Don.  I  remember  that  you  are  in  mine,  for  the  day  that  Black 
Donald  stands  at  the  bar,  Col.  Le  Noir  will  certainly  be  beside 
him. 

Le  JSf,  (rises,  goes  down  l.)  Enough  I  Do  you  take  me  for 
one  of  your  pals?  ' 

Doji.  (k.,  rises).  No !  my  pals  are  too  poor  to  hire  their  work 
done ;  but  then  they  are  brave  enough  to  do  it  themselves.  In 
one  word,  I  demand  ten  thousand  dollars.  Five  thousand  in 
advance,  the  remainder  when  the  deed's  done. 

Le  N.  Extortion ! 

Don.  If  you  don't  like  the  terms,  you  need  not  employ  me. 

Le  N.  You  take  advantage  of  my  necessities. 

Don.  Not  at  all.  But  I'm  tired  of  this  sort  of  life,  and  wish 
to  retire  from  active  business.  I  want  to  emigrate,  settle, 
marry,  get  elected  to  Congress,  perhaps  to  the  White  House. 
Ten  thousand  dollars  will  give  me  a  fair  start.  Many  a  suc- 
cessful politician,  as  your  honor  knows,  has  started  on  less 
capital  than  that. 

Le  N.  {aside).  He  has  me  in  his  power.  Why  should  I  hesi- 
tate ?  (Aloud)  Well,  I  agree  to  the  terms ;  meet  me  here  to- 
morrow evening  and  the  money  shall  be  yours.  In  the  mean 
time,  be  careful ;  a  mistake  might  be  fatal. 

Don.   Oh,  you  can  trust  me. 

Le  N.  Good-night  then,  and  remember  to-morrow.  {Music, 
hold.)  lExit  D.  F. 

Don.  Ha!  ha!  ha!  Why  does  that  man  think  it  needful  to 
look  so  villauous  ?  If  I  were  to  go  about  in  such  a  bandit-like 
dress  as  that,  every  child  I  met  would  take  mo  for  what  I  am. 
'Tis  strange  this  girl  should  have  returned.  Gad!  I'll  first  see 
what  sort  of  a  thing  it  is.  I  must  get  sight  of  her.  But  how? 
I  have  it!  -  Lucky  thought!  Truly,  Donald,  thou  hast  enacted 
so  many  parts,  it  woijld  be  hard  if  thou  canst  not  successfully 
assume  one  now.    Ho,  there,  lads !  lads !  ILxit  k.  u.  e. 

SCENE  3. — A  plain  Jdtchen  in  the  home  of  Marah  liocJce. — 
Windoio  in  flat,  icith  plain  curtains.  —  Music,  ^^  The  Heart 
Bowed  Down,  etc." 

Enter  MaPwVH,  k.  1  e.,  slowly,  towards  the  end  of  music, 

Marah.  There ;  supper  is  ready  and  my  dear  son  Traverse 
mil  soon  be  home  to  enjoy  it.  Ah,  hard,  hard  is  the  fate 
which  compels  him  to  toil,  early  and  late,  for  my  support! 
Yet  how  willingly  he  does  it!  Well,  w^ell,  I  must  not  com- 
plain ;  it  is  the  will  of  Providence,  and  it  were  impious  in  ine 
to  murmur. 


16  THE   HIDDEN   HAND.  [ACT  II. 

Enter  Traverse,  l.  1  e.  {Goes  to  Marah  and  kisses  her.') 

Traverse.   Mother,  dear  mother ! 

Mar.   Will  you  never  have  outgrown  your  babyhood? 

Tra.  Yes,  dear  mother,  in  everything:  but  the  privilct^P  of 
loving  you.  That  I  shall  never  outgrow  {Kisses).  Mother,  I 
shall  not  be  wanted  any  longer  at  the  store.  Mr.  Specie'?  man 
has  recovered  his  health  and  returued  to  his  work. 

Mar.   So  they  have  discharged  j'ou? 

Tva.  Yes !  But  how  fortu^nate  !  for  I  shall  be  able,  to-mor- 
row, to  do  all  the  little. odd  jobs  about  the  garden  that  have 
been  waiting  for  me  so  long,  and  tlien  on  Monday  I  shall  get 
more  work. 

Mar.  I  wish  I  were  sure  of  it. 

Tra.  What  do  you  think,  mother,  has  become  of  Herbert, 
my  foster-brother? 

Mar.  I  dread  to  conjecture.  It  is  now  nearly  three  years 
since  we  have  heard  from  him. 

Tra.  Do  you  think  he  has  been  lost  at  sea? 

Mar.  No!  I  feel  assured  it  is  not  so.  Do  you  know,  Traverse, 
that  for  the  past  three  nights  I  have  dreamt  of  him;  and  if  I 
were  at  all  superstitious  I  should  say  that  his  spirit  was  hover- 
ing near  me  now. 

Tra.  Then  he  will  come  back.     Ha !  what  step  is  that? 

Herbert  (Outside,  l.  1  e).   Traverse!  Mother! 

Tra.  'Tis  Herbert!  'Tis  he,  mother ! 

Enter  Herbert  hastily,  l.  1  e.  ' 

Her.  Traverse !  (Shakes  hands  icith  him,  and  crosses  to  c.) 
Mother!  (Embraces  her.) 

Tra.   O  Herbert,  I  am  so  glad  to  see  you. 

Her.  Brother,  I  have  come  to  repay  all  your  acts  of  kindness 
to  me.     But,  mother,  you  do  not  welcome  me ! 

Mar.  (embracing  hiiii).  My  son!  my  sailor  boy!  it's  my  own 
blood.  Welcome  back  again.  You  have  travelled  far;  I 
will  get  supper  for  you  directly. 

Her.  Do  not  trouble  yourself;  I  took  supper  three  miles 
back,  where  the  stage  stopped. 

Mar.  Why,  Herbert,  have  you  been  s.o  silent?  For  three 
years  we  have  not  received  one  line  from  you. 

Her.  And  can  you  think  I  had  forgotten  you?  No,  no !  My 
heart  yearned  too  fondly  for  the  protectors  of  my  youth.  In 
each  port  that  our  ship  has  stopped  have  I  mailed  remembrances 
to  you. 

Mar.  I  believe  thee,  Herbert;  and 'twas  the  thought  of  thy 
rtrong  affection  which  made  me  fear  that  death  had  taken  thee 
for  its  victim.  But  thou  art  here  now,  and  I  am  happy  once 
again. 

Her.  And  now  let  me  tell  you  the  good  news  I  have  for  you. 

31ar.  Oh,  tell  it,  tell  it !  Have  you  got  a  ship  of  your  own, 
Herbert? 


Scene  3.]  t«e  niDDi^x  haxb.  17 

Her  Better  than  that.  Yoii  know  that  I  hnd  a  rich  uncle 
whom  I  had  never  seen,  because,  from  the  time  of  my  dear 
mother's  marriage  to  lier  death,  she  and  her  brother  had  been 
estranged  from  cacli  other? 

Ma)\  {rov fused).  Yes,  yes !  I  have  heard  so ;  but  your  mother 
and  m3'.self  never  alhided  to  the  subject. 

Her.  Exactly!  Well,  when  I  came  on  shore,  who  should  I 
meet  at  the  hotel  but  this  rich  imcle!  He  knew  me  at  once, 
received  me  with  much  kindness,  and  has  oflcred  me  a  home 
beneath  his  roof.     Are  you  not  glad  at  my  good  fortune? 

Tra.   Oh,  yes  !  indeed  we  are.     Herbert,  I  give  you  joy. 

Her.  I  knew  you'd  be  glad  for  me;  but  now  I  want  you  to 
be  glad  yourselves.  AVhen  I  told  him  what  friends  you  had 
been  to  me  — 

Mar.  {Jiastilfj).  Oh,  no!  You  did  not  —  you  did  not  men- 
tion us  to  him  ? 

Tra.  (crosses  to  c.)  Why,  mother!  Why  should  I  not?  Was 
there  anything  wrong  in  that? 

Mar.  No,  no!  certainly  not!  I  forgot  —  I  —  only  that  we 
are  poor,  and  should  not  be  forced  upon  the  attention  of  the 
rich.  Well,  Herbert,  as  you  Avere  saying  a':out  my  —  Major 
WarfiekVs  kindness  —  go  on.     (Crosses  to  c.) 

Her.  When  I  told  him  how  kind  you  had  been  to  me,  he  was 
moved  to  tears.  I  saw  the  teardrops  glistening  in  his  eye, 
as  he  walked  the  floor,  mutteiing  to  himself,  — poor  woman,  — 
good  woman,  —  excellent  woman. 

3Iar.   Go  on  I     What  more  did  he  say? 

Her.  That  all  that  he  could  do  for  you  was  but  a  sacred  debt 
he  owed  you,  and  that,  in  fact,  he  would  compensate  for  the 
past  by  doing  you  and  yours  full  justice. 

3Iar.   He  acknowledged  it!     Thank  Heaven  !  thnnk  Heaven! 

Tra.  Mother,  what  is  the  meaning  of  this?  Tell  us  what 
it  is. 

3far.  I  am  so  happy  at  last  I  After  eighteen  5-ears  of  patient 
hoping  against  hope !  Oh,  I  shall  go  mad  w.ith  joy  !  But  tell 
me,  Herbert,  are  you  sure  that  he  —  that  Z^lajor  Vv^'artield  — 
knew  who  we  were? 

Her.  I'-sl  I  told  him  all  about  you, — your  troubles,  your 
disinterestedness,  and  all  your  history  ever  since  I  knew  you. 

3Iar.  Then  5^ou  are  sure  lie  knew  who  he  was  talking  about? 

Her.   Of  course  he  did. 

3Iar.   Did  he  allude  to  any  previous  acquaintance  with  us? 

Her.  No,  mother,  except  that  he  bade  me  hasten  to  you  and 
make  you  glad  with  his  message,  and  to  return  as  quick  as 
possible,  and  let  him  know  whether  you  would  accept  his 
offers. 

Mar.  Accept  them  !  Oh,  yes,  yes  !  I  have  waited  for  them 
for  years.  Oh,  children,  you  gaze  upon  me  as  if  you  thought 
me  mad.  I  am  not  so,  nor  can  I  now  explain  myself;  but  you 
will  know  all  soon.    Go,  then,  dear  Herbert,  tell  liim  I  accept 


18  THE  HIDDEN  HAND.  [ACT  IL 

with  joy  his  offer,  for  the  sake  of  Traverse.  My  child,  —oh, 
joj  I  — the  hour  loug  looked  for  has  come  at  last.  {Crosses  c.) 
Providence,  how  bountiful  are  thy  ways !  My  heart  is  too  full! 
Tears,  come  to  my  aid!  In  the  solitude  of  my  chamber  let  me 
pour  out  my  thanks  to  that  benignant  Power  that  watches  over 
the  shorn  lamb.  lExit,  hastily,  r.  1  e. 

Tray.  What  can  be  the  meaning  of  this,  Herbert?  I  can't 
understand  it. 

Her.  But  I  can,  Traverse.  Poverty  is  hard  to  bear,  and  the 
hope  that  for  your  sake  her  trials  are  over,  has  overjoyed  her. 
I  shall  away  at  once.  Go  you  to  your  mother;  soothe  her  till 
I  return,  to  ccnvey  her  to  that  home  she  so  much  deserves,  and 
shall  hereafter  enjoy.     [^Shakes  hands  with  Traverse,  exit  l.  1  e. 

[Traverse  exit,  r.  1  e. 

SCENE  4.  —  The  Plantation  at  Hurricane  Hall.  Tobacco  groio- 
ing  at  back,  icith  negroes  at  icork.  A  row  of  large  trees  on  l.  n. 
side.  Fountain  r.  2.  e.,  and  large  stone  basin  to  receive  the 
icater.  A  low  hedge  runs  across  stage,  at  back,  icith  opening  c. 
Tliex>ortico  of  the  house,  on  steps  is  r.  3  &  4  e.  A  large  bin, 
supposed  to  contain  meal,  &c.,  r.  2  e.  Music,  ^^  My  Old  Ken- 
tucky  Home." 

Enter  Mrs.  CoxDniEXT,  from  house,  r.  n. 

3Irs.  C.  Here,  "Wool,  —  Wool!  .  Where  can  that  lazy  nigger 
be?  it's  lucky  for  him  the  major  is  not  by. 

Wool  {entering  l.  u.  e.)  Here  I  is,  Mrs.  Cardimcns,  —  what 
you  want  ? 

3Irs.  C.   Where's  the  major,  Wool  ? 

Wool.  Down  at  de  stable,  blowing  Jim  up  like  de  debbil, 
kase  he  gib  him  a  lame  horse.  He  shied  the  curricomb  at  ray 
head ;  but  I  tuk  care  to  dodge,  and  make  myself  scarse,  kase 
I  knows  de  massa.    Yes,  I  believe  you. 

Mrs.  C.   And  where's  Miss  Black? 

Wool.  Oh,  she's  down  dar,  too;  dar  she  stands,  larfin  at  de 
major.    I  larf,  too ;  dat's  what  brought  de  curricomb  arter  me. 

Mrs.  C.  Well.  Wool,  see  a  good  fire  made  in  the  trap  cham- 
ber.    Miss  Black  will  occupy  ihat  for  the  future. 

Wool.  Say,  missus,  dar's  a  sailor  chap  out  at  de  gate  says 
he's  got  some  magniferous  goods  he  wants  to  show  de  ladies 
ob  de  house. 

Mrs.  C.  A  sailor?  "well,  fetch  him  here,  Wool. 

Wool.  Just  so,  missus.  '        \_Exit,  l.  u.  e. 

Mrs.  C.   A  sailor,  with  foreign  goods  for  sale.    I'm  afraid 
Le's  one  of  those  smugglers  I've  heard  tell  of.    However,  there 
can  be  no  harm  in  looking  at  his  goods. 
{Be-enter  Wool,  followed  by  Black  Donald,  disguised  as  a 

sailor,  icith  a  large  pack  of  silks,  &c.,  on  his  back.    He  takes 

off  hat  and  bows.    Music,  ''Life  on  the  Ocean  Wave.") 

Don.  (c.)   Servant,  madam.    I've  brought  a  few  goods,  con- 


gCENE  4.]  THE  HIDDEN  HAND.  19 

sisting  of  rich  China  silks,  purchased  in  Shanghai,  which  I'll 
sell  cheap. 

Wool.  (l.  n.)  Shanghai!  dats  dc  place  war  our  olc  roostei 
come  from. 

J)on.  Perhaps  you've  some  young  ladies  in  the  fleet-  I've 
goods  as  ■will  rig  'em  out  as  gay  as  a  clipper. 

3Irs.  C.  (n.  ii.)  Wool,  call  the  house  servants;  perhaps  they 
would  like  to  buy  something. 

Wool,  (aside)  "Ole  missus  wants  to  get  de  pick.    If  he's  got 
any  cotton  bandannas,  I'll  take  one  or  two  myself.    Yah !  yah! 
X  believe  you. 
(Exit  into  the  Jiouse,  n.  n.     Donald  opens  the  pack  and  displays 

silks,  cOc.     Mrs.  C.  f<jlloKs  Wool  up,  then  advances  l.) 

Mrs.  C.  I  didn't  wish  to  inquire  before  the  servants;  but 
I'm  afraid,  my  good  man,  you  risk  your  liberty  in  an  unlawful 
trade. 

Don.  On  my  soul,  ma'am,  these  things  arc  honestly  come 
by,  and  you  have  no  right  to  doubt  me. 

Mrs.  C.  I  know  I  haven't ;  but  did  these  goods  pass  through 
the  custom  house  ? 

Don.  Tliat's  not  a  fair  question,  ma'am. 

Mrs.  C.  I  do  not  know  whether  smuggling  is  right  or  wrong ; 
but  I  do  not  feci  at  lii)erty  to  purchas^e  goods  of  a  man  who 
risks  his  life  in  an  unlawful  traffic.  ^ 

Don.  (c.)  AVhy,  Lor  bless  you,  ma'am,  if  wc  risks  oirr  lives 
it's  our  own  business,  and  if  you've  no  scruples  on  your  ac- 
count, you  needn't  have  any  on  ours. 

Re-enter  Wool,  loith  all  the  servants,  male  and  female. 

Wool.  Come  along,  boys  and  gals,  dare's  de  smuggler  dat 
hab  dc  goods. 

Mrs.  C.  {to  them,  l.)  You  may  look  at  these  things,  but  you 
must  not  purchase  them. 

Wool,  (ii.)   Dar  goes  my  bandannas. 

Enter  Capitola,  in  ridinrj-dress,  hastily,  L.  u.  e.,  and  advances  l. 

Cap.  Hollo !  what  queer  fish  have  you  picked  up  here? 

Mrs.  C.  A  sailor,  my  dear,  with  foreign  goods  for  sale. 

Cap.  A  sailor?    Isn't  he  a  smuggler? 

Wool,  'l  believe  you. 

3Irs.  C.  (l.  c.)  Indeed,  my  dear,  I'm  afraid  he's  not  what  ha 
seems. 

Cap.  Ifhe's  a  bold  buccaneer,  I  want  to  talk  to  him.  Say,  you 
sir,  show  me  your  goods ;  I'm  very  fond  of  sailors.   (  Crosses  to  c.) 

Don.  (k.  c.)  Ay,  you  would 'give  us  poor  follows  a  chance 
to  turn  an  honest  penny.  (Shows  silk.)  Tiiere's  a  genuine 
China  silk.  I  bought  it  myself,  on  my  last  cruise,  in  the  streets 
of  Shangliai. 

}VooL  Yes,  miss,  Shanghai;  dat's  de  place  where  dc  roosters 
come  from. 


20  TlIE  inDDEN  HAIO).  [ACT  II. 

Cap.  Wool !     {Baises  whip.') 

Wool.   I's  done. 

Don.  (sJioicina  siUi).  This  is  an  article  of  great  value.  Look, 
now  beautiful.  "^  And  this  (sJioir^s  lohite  shawrj  cannot  be  pur- 
chased but  in  Cashmere,  -where  the  article  is  made. 

Wool.  You  see  dat  arr  Cashncer  shawl?  It's  made  out  of 
iii^2:ers'  wool,  dyed  white. 

Cap.   Wool !  Pomp,  get  the  horsewhip.     (Po:mp  is  going  l.) 

Wool.   Stop,  stop  dare,  Pomp;  I's  done. 

Cap.  Look  here,  my  brave  buccaneer,  I've  been  the  rounds. 
Mrs.  Condiment,  if  you  want  to  buy  that  India  silk  ycu  are 
looking  at  so  lovingly,  you  may  do  it  with  a  safe  conscience.  I 
know  all  about  thaso  foreign  goods ;  they  arc  manufactured  in  the 
North,  and  sent  through  the  country  by  agents,  who  dress  and 
talk  like  sailors,  because  they  know  well  enough  fine  ladies 
will  buy  quicker  and  pay  more  if  they  onl}'^  fancy  they  are 
cheating  Uncle  Sam  in  buying  from  a  smuggler  at  half  price. 

JUrs.  C.   So,  then,  you  are  not  a  smuggler,  after  all. 

Don.  You  know,  ma'am,  I  told  you  you  were  accusing  me 
wrongfully. 

Cap.  There,  what  did  I  tell  you? 

Mrs.  C.  Well,  lie  knows  if  he  wanted  to  pass  himself  off  for 
a  smuggler,  it  didn't  take  licre. 

TFooL  Dat's  a  fac ;  couldn't  fool  us.    Yah !  yah ! 

C'aj9.  Wool!  Well,  my  good  fellow,  as  it  is  getting  late  .in 
the  morning  we  will  make  some  purchases ;  and  after  breakfast 
you  can  pursue  your  journey. 

Don.  Thank  you  kindly,  miss ;  but  I  must  be  far  on  my  jour- 
ney to-night.  * 

Mrs.  C.  But,  my  good  man,  you  do  not  know  the  danger  you 
run  by  travelling'^at  night  with  that  valuable  pack  of  goods. 
If  you  should  encounter  Black  Donald  — 

Caj).  Black  Donald,  who  is  he?  and  why  is  he  called  Black 
Donald? 

Mrs.  C.  For  his  black  deeds,  black  soul;  his  black  hair  and 
beard. 

Wool.  Yes,  dat's  so.  His  har  is  four  yards  long;  he  stands 
fourty  feet  high,  and  eats  two  oxen  and  a  little  chicken,  cbery 
day,  for  his  fodder. 

Cap.  And  I  suppose  drinks  a  barrel  of  whiskey  at  one  gulp, 
to  wash  it  down. 

Wool.  I  believe  you. 

Don.  (to  I\Ius.  C")   Have  you  ever  met  the  wretch,  ma'am? 

Mrs.  C.   Oh !   I  —  I  should  drop  down  dead  with  terror ! 

Wool.  I  reckon  dis  uigger'd*be  'mong  de  missiu, 'bout  dat 
time,  too. 

Don.  (to  Cap.)   What  think  you  of  this  outlaw,  young  lady? 

Cap.  I  like  him.  I  like  men  whose  names  strike  terror  into 
the  hearts  of  the  commonplace  people. 

Wool.   Oh,  de  Lord! 


Scene  1.]  the  ihddei^  uasd.         *  2i 

Mrs.  C.  O  Miss  Black ! 

Cap.  Yes  I  do,  and  if  he  were  only  as  honest  as  he  is  trave, 
I  would  adore  him.  If  tliere  is  one  person  in  the  world  I  wish 
to  see,  it  is  Black  Donald. 

Wool.  Not  now,  Miss  Catapiller.    Oh,  Lord  a  marcy ! 

Don.  And  do  you  know  Avhat  happened  to  the  rash  girl  that 
wished  to  see  his  satanic  majesty  ? 

Cap.   No!     What  did? 

Bon.   She  saw  him. 

Wool.  De  devil  she  did ! 

Cap.  Oh,  if  that's  all,  I  say  it,  and  if  wishing  will  bring  the 
sight  of  this  notorious  outlaw,  I  wish  it.  I  wish  to  see  Black 
Donald.     (^1  la  Diahle). 

Don.  Behold  him !  {Tlirows  off  cap,  and  hanclJcerchief  which 
has  concealed  his  beard.  —  Hurried  music. — Negroes  scream,  and 
rush  off  at  different  entrances.  —Mrs.  Conddient  runs  into  house. 
—  Wool  disappears-  in  the  meal-bin,  k.  —  Capitola  suddenly 
springs  upon  his  back,  clinging  to  him.  —  He  slips  off  jacket  and 
cap,  and  runs  to  r.  1  e.  —  Is  met  by  negro  with  gun,  ivho  shnnks 
from  him.  —  Goes  to  l.  1  e.  —  Is  met  by  another  negro  with  gun, 
&c.  —  Goes  ^0  L  2  E.,  and  meets  Hukricane,  ichom  he  knocks  into 
fountain,  — Negroes  all  re-enter,  r.  andi..,  and  rush  about  in  con- 
fusion.—  Wool  rises  in  meal-bin,  covered  with  mcal^  and  his 
mouth  filled  with  it,-which  he  scatters  about.  —  Capitola  kiughs, 
as  the  drop  descends.') 

End  of  Act  II. 


ACT    III. 

SCENE  1. —  Tlie  plantation,  as  in  Act  U.,  Scene  i.  —  MusiCy  "A 
Little  More  Cider." 

Enter  Hurricane  and  Herbert,  from  house^  r. 

Hur.  And  so,  Herbert,  the  poor  woman  was  delighted  with 
the  prospect  of  better  times.     And  the  boy,  Herbert !  the  boy ! 

Her.  Oh,  sir,  delighted  for  himself,  but  still  more  for  his 
mother.  Her  joy  was  such  as  to  astonish  and  alarm  me.  Be- 
fore that  I  had  thought  Marah  Rocke  was  a  proud  woman. 

Hur.  (astounded).   Thought  who  was  a  proud  woman? 

Her.  Marah  Kocke. 

Hur.  {in  great  rage).  Young  man!  did  you  know  the  shame 
you  dashed  in  my  face  with  the  name  of  that  woman? 

Her.   She  is  the  best  and  dearest  of  her  sex. 

Hur.  Best  and  dearest!  idiot!    This,  then,  is  why  yon  con« 


22  THE  HIDDEN  HAND.  [ACT  III. 

cealedlier  name  from  me  until  you  had  won  my  promise  to  aid 
her.;  but  see,  sir,  I  break  it  thus  {snaps  his  cane  in  two),  and 
when  you  can  unite  those  ends,  and  make  them  bear  green 
leaves  again,  then  you  can  reconcile  Ira  Warfield  to  Marah 
Kocke. 

Her.  What  is  the  cause  of  this  emotion,  sir? 

Hur.  Emotion !  Demme,  sir,  am  I  a  man  to  give  way  to 
emotion?  Mind  what  you  say,  sir.  Go,  —  go  back  to  that 
woman  and  tell  her,  as  she  values  her  life,  never  to  utter  or 
even  think  my  name  again. 

Her.  Sir,  you  cannot  mean  it.  And  as  for  Mrs.  Eocke,  as  a 
good  woman,  I  feel  it  my  duty  to  uphold  her  name  and  repu- 
tation. 

Hur.  Good !  Ugh !  Ugh !  But  I'll  command  myself;  I'll  not 
give  way  again.  Good!  Ha!  ha!  I  see  now,  boy,  that  you 
are  a  dupe.  But  tell  me,  sir,  do  you  know  anything  of  this 
woman's  former  life  ? 

Her.  Nothing,  sir;  but  I  would  stake  my  salvation  on  her 
integrity. 

Hur.  Then  you'd  lose  it,  lad,  that's  all.  But  listen:  at  the 
ripe  age  of  forty-five  I  succeeded  in  achieving  the  greatest  folly 
in  my  life.  I  fell  in  love  with  and  married  a  girl  of  sixteen,  — 
married  her  secretly  for  fear  of  the  ridicule  of  my  brother  ofli- 
cers,  -•put  her  in  a  snug  cabin  in  the  woods,  and  visited  her 
by  stealth ;  but  I  was  watched,  my  hidden  treasure  was  Sis- 
covered,  demme.  I  cannot  tell  this  story  in  detail.  One  night 
I  came  home  late  and  quite  unexpectedly,  and  found  a  man  in 
my  wife's  cabin.  I  broke  the  man's  head,  sir,  tore  the  woman 
from  my  heart.  That  man  was  Gabriel  Le  Noii',  and  the 
woman  was  Marali  Rocke.     (Crosses  k.) 

Her.   Surely,  sir,  there  must  have  been  some  mistake. 

Hur.  Mistake  !  Demme,  sir,  do  you  think  I  couldn't  believe 
my  own  eyes?  But  never  let  me  see  her;  never  let  her  hope 
for  assistance  from  me;  and,  boy,  if  you  value  my  friendship  — 
Ugh !  Tell  her  that  Ira  Warfield  will  carry  these  sentiments  to 
his  grave.     (Hurries  off,  n.  1  e.) 

Her.  Strange,  eventful  history.  Poor  Marah!  Oh,  I  will 
not  believe  this  of  her.  There  has  been  foul  wrong  done  to 
her,  and  though  I  waste  energy  and  life  in  the  pursuit,  I'll 
prove  to  this  stubborn  man  that  Marah  Rocke  is  not  the  out- 
cast he  would  make  her.  [Exit  l.  1  e. 

Enter  "Wool,  Pit-a-Pat,  and  Po:mp,  from  house. 

Wool.  Come  along,  Pomp !  mas'rgone  oflf,  and  Miss  Catapiller 
out  riding.  Oh  de  Lord,  wont  de  major  be  mad  when  he 
knows  it?    I  believe  you. 

Pomp.  Why,  Wool? 

•  Wool.  Case  he  forbid  her  going  out  alone,  she's  such  a  har- 
um-scarum critter,  and  he's  afraid  she'll  break  her  neck  some 
of  these  days ;  so  he  tells  all  de  boys  not  to  saddle  de  pony  for 
her. 


Scene  1.]  the  hidden  haxd.  23 

Pomp.  And  "wliat  did  she  Scay  to  dat? 

Wool.  Golly!  she  didn't  say  nufliii,  but  just  harnessed  ^e 
pony  herself;  and  raouutin'  him,  told  us  to  give  her  compli- 
ments to  the  governor,  and  say  she'd  be  home  when  she  got 
back.    Yah!  3-ah! 

Pomp.   And  is  you  gwan  to  tell  him,  "Wool? 

Wool.  I  radertiuk  not,  for  ole  massa  swear  dat  he  skin  me 
alive  if  I  let  her  go ;  and  dis  chile  wouldn't  look  well  with  his 
hide  off.  But  look  here,  Pomp,  can't  you  bring  out  de  ole  banjo 
and  gib  us  a  tune,  now? 

Pomp.  Yah!  yah!    Now  you  talks.    Golly!  dats  my  piana. 

Wool.  Fetch  him.  Pomp.  (Exit  Pomp,  u.  e.  k.)  1  lubs  de 
banjo  better  dan  anything  on  earth. 

Pit.   {down  close  to  him,  n.)     'Cept  me.  Wool. 

Wool.  Go  way,  gal,  you  knows  I  lub  you,  but  den  — 

Pit.   Den  what.  Wool? 

Wool.  I  lubs  de  banjo  better.  • 

Pit.  Ugh !    You  ugly  nigger !     (Qoes  up.) 

Wool.  1  believe  you.  I  "know  Pse  ugly.  Don't  kotch  me 
dar,  gal.    Yah !  yah !  yah ! 

Pe-enter  Pomp,  followed  hy  male  and  female  darkies,  n.  u.  e. 

Pomp.  Here  we  is,  Wool. 

Wool.  Dat's  it.  Kow  den,  Pomp,  squat  and  tune  hor  up. 
(So19^  and  chorus.) 

Enter  Capitola,  l.  v.  e. 

Capitola,  Now,  then,  what's  going  on  here,  eh?  Wool,  is 
the  major  in  the  house? 

Wool.  I  radcr  tink  not.  Miss  Catapiller.  Massa  went  off,  jest 
now,  in  a  debil  of  a  rage.  Golly,  you'd  better  not  get  in  der 
way  just  now. 

Cap.  He's  angry,  is  he  ?  then  I  shall  have  a  chance  to  aston- 
ish the  old  dragon.  I  like  that  old  man ;  but  he  must  be  made 
to  know  his  place. 

Wool  (aside).  Won't  der  be  an  explosion  when  dem  two  meet? 
(Aloud)  Miss  Catapiller,  won't  you  oblige  de  darkies,  here,  by 
singing  dat  ar  pretty  song  I  heard  you  warble  toder  day.  You 
see,  I's  got  an  affection  of  de  busum,  and  dat  ar  'peals  to  my 
feelings  so. 

Cap.  Sing  it ;  to  be  sure  I  will,  Wool ;  but  you  must  all  join 
In  the  chorus ;  and  as  music  hath  charms  to  sooth  the  savage 
breast,  who  knows  but  it  may  tame  the  major  down.  (Song 
and  chorus,  —  "  Capitola."  —  Breakdown  by  darkies.) 

Hur.  (without,  r.)   Wool,  go  and  call  Miss  Black  to  me ! 

Wool.  Oh,  de  Lord !  scatter,  boys  and  gals !  (Darkies  run 
0/,  R.  ancZ  L.  u.  E.) 

Cap.  Pll  be  off,  too.  Wool;  tell  the  major  I  am  gone  out  to 
grass.    Now  I'll  teach  him  a  lesson  he'll  not  readily  forget. 

{^Exit  L.  u.  E. 


34  THE  HIDDEN  HAlO).  [ACT  III. 

IVool.  Here's  a  pretty  fix  dis  nigger's  In. 
•  Enter  Hureicaxe,  r.  1  e. 

Muj^.   Send  Miss  Black  to  mc !    Rascal !  do  you  hear  me  ? 

Wool  (hesitating).  Radcr  bard  ob  liearln',  to-day,  mas'r. 

Har.    Deramc,  why  dou't  you  move,  you  villain! 

Wool.  De  Lord  help  dis  chile,  now!  Massa  major,  I's  berry 
sorry  to  say,  I  couldn't  do  it. 

liar.  Wiiat !  mutiny  in  the  camp !  What  do  you  mean,  you 
devil's  imp? 

Wool.   'Kasc  Miss  Catapiller's  gone  out  on  de  pony. 

Iliir.  (amazed).   No! 

Wool.  Yes,  I  believe  you. 

Har.  And  she  has  dared  to  disobey  my  orders.  And  you, 
you  infernal  rascal  1  did  I  not  tell  you  not  to  let  her  have  any 
horse  fi'om  the  stable  ? 

Wool.   I  disremember  dat,  massa. 

Hur.  You  do,  en?  But  I  remember  that  I  promised  to  skin 
you  alive  if  you  did  so ;  and  dcmme  if  I  don't  do  it !   (Prepares.') 

Wool.  O  massa!  I  remember  dat,  (Aside)  Only  tink  of  dis 
nigger  goin'  widgut  his  skin !     Don't,  massa  major,  don't ! 

Hur.  "Come  here,  j^ou  black  vagabond !  I'll  teach  j'ou  to  dis- 
obey orders.  (Makes  a  dash  at  Wool,  zoho  dodges,  and  crosses 
to  R.  -r- HuiiRiC-\Js^E  chases  him  round  to  l.) 

E)iter  Capitola,  l.  u.  e.,  icho  comes  between  them. 

Cap.  Hollo!  governor;  wliat's  the  matter? 

Wool.   Tank  de  Lord !  lExit,  l.  1  e. 

Cap.  Oh !  my,  what  a  look !  Now  I've  no  doubt  you  think 
to  frighten  somebody.    You're  mistaken,  governor. 

Hur.  ]\Iiss,  how  dare  you  have  the  impudence,  the  assur-' 
ance,  the  brass,  the  effi-ontery  to  speak  to  me  I 

Cap.   Well,  I  declare  ! 

Hur.  Young  woman!  tell  me  instantly,  and  without  prevari- 
cation—  demme,  where  have  you  been? 

Cap.  Going  to  and  fro  upon  the  earth,  with  the  pony  under 
me. 

Hur.   Flames  and  fires!  this  is  no  answer!   (Walks,  in  rage.) 

Cap.  Look  here,  uncle,  if  you  go  on  in  that  way  you'll  have 
a  fit  presently. 

Hur.  Where  the  devil  have  you  been  ? 

Cap.   Across  the  river,  through  the  woods,  and  back  again. 

Hur.  And  didn't  I  forbid  you  to  do  that,  minion?  How  dare 
you  disobey  my  orders  !  Do  you  know  the  jeopardy  you  placed 
yourself  in?  —  you,  the  creature  of  my  bounty !  —  the  miserable 
little  vagrant,  that  I  picked  out  of  the  streets,  and  tried  to  make 
a  lady  ol"!  You  should  have  locked  yourself  in  your  room,  you 
beggar !  —  you  street  boot-black !  ere  you  disobeyed  your  bene- 
factor !  —  a  man  of  my  age,  character,  and  position,  and  the 
master  of  this  house  1 


Scene  2.]  the  hidden  hand.  25 

Cap.  Undo,  you  rescued  mo  from  misery,  perhaps  from 
deaiii;  you  have  placed  mo  in  a  home  of  abundance,  honor^ 
and  security.  For  all  this,  if  \  were  not  grateful,  I  should  de- 
serve no  less  th.ivi  death.  But,  uncle,  there  is  a  sin  worse  than 
this.  It  is  to  put  a  helpless  fellow-creature  under  heavy  obli- 
gations, and  then  treat  them  with  undeserved  contempt  and 
cruel  unkindness.    Farewell!     {Goimj  l.  ii.) 

Hur.   Stop,  miss!     Where  arc  you  going? 

Cap.  P.ack  to  the  home  you  rescued  me  Trcm.  Freedom  and 
peace  is  sweeter  than  wealth  with  misery. 

Ilur.  But,  Capitola  —  I  didn't  mean  —  it  was  all  for  your  own 
good.    I  —  I  — 

Cap.  I  won't  be  treated  with  kicks  and  promises  at  the  same 
tim3.  I'm  not  a  cur  pup,  to  be  fed  on  roast  beef  and  beaten 
with  the  bones.  Such  abuse  as  you  have  heaped  upon  me  I 
never  heard  before,  not  even  in  Rag  Alley. 

Ilur.   Zounds!  will  you  never  forget  Kag  Allfty? 

Cap.  I  won't ;  I'll  go  back  there. 

Hur.   Demme,  I  wont  let  j'ou ! 

Cap.  Then  I'll  have  you  up  before  the  nearest  magistrate, 
and  make  you  show  by  what  right  you  detain  me  here. 

liar.  Whew!  Now,  my  dear  niece;  I  only  meant  to  speak 
for  your  good. 

Cap.  {bnitatinrj  his  previous  manner).  Then  how  dare  you 
have  titb  brass,  the  impudence,  the  assurance,  the  copper,  to 
talk  to  me  in  the  manner  vou  did? 

Har.   AVhat! 

Cap.   Old  gentleman,  answer  me ! 

Ilur.   Demme,  is  the  girl  crazy? 

Cap.  Didn't  you  know,  you  frantic  old  veteran,  the  jeopardy 
you  placed  yourself  in,  by  getting  up  steam  in  that  manner. 
You  dishonored  old  man,  you  should  have  put  your  head  in  a 
basket,  you  headstrong,  desperate,  reckless  old  invalid,  ere 
you  allowed  yourself  to  vilify  me,  a  young  lady  of  character, 
position,  and  the  mistress  of  this  house.     Hem!  demme ! 

\^Exit,  strutting,  r.  1  e. 

Ilur.  Oh,  oh!  Ah!  Ha,  ha!  I  like  this.  She's  showing 
mc  off.    Thank  you,  miss ;  I  owe  you  one.    Ha,  ha,  ha ! 

[_Exit  into  house,  Vi. -a. 

SCENE  2.  —  TIic  apartment  ofMarah  Hocke,  as  before.  —  MusiCf 
"  The  heart  bowed  dozen." 

Enter  Marah,  k.  1  e.,  reading  a  letter. 

3Iar.  (reads.)  ''My  dearest  and  best  Mrs.  Iioc7ce,—  May  Heaven 
strengthen  you  to  read  the  few  bitter  lines  I  have  to  write.  Major 
Warficld,  upon  hearing  your  name,  xcUhdrew  all  his  promises. 
He  told  me  your  early  history;  yet  I  believe  you  as  pure  as  an  an- 
gel. Trust  in  Heaven  and  believe  in  the  earnest  respect  and  affec- 
iion  of  your  grateful  and  attached  son.  ^Herbert  Grayson." 
3 


26  THE   HIDDEN   HAND.  [ACT   111, 

« Trust  ill  Heaven!"  Aye!  It  has  given  me  Strength  to  bear 
iU'ith  rcijignation  greater  trials  tJian  this,  and  shall  I  now  re- 
pine? ^o!  Courage,  poor  licart!  Disappointment  may  do 
much ;  bur,  for  the  sake  of  my  dear  son,  I  will  strive  to  bear 
with  it. 

Enter  Traverse,  l.  1  e. 

•  Tra.  Dear  mother,  in  tears!     What  is  the  meaning  of  this? 

Mar.  Traverse,  misfortunes  never  come  singly.  Major  War- 
Cold  has  regretted  his  promise  to  aid  us. 

7Va.  Tlien  let  it  go,  dear  mother.  If  we  arc  poor,  wo  can 
still  liold  up  our  heads  in  honor.  But,  mother,  tell  mc  of  my 
father. 

Mar.  Not  now,  Traverse.  In  time  you  will  know  all.  But 
6CC !  I  will  read  the  doctor's  letter.  {Reads)  ''  Dear  Madam, — 
M'j  daughter  Clara,  having  just  returned  from  school,  to  pursue 
her  studies  at  hmie,  needs  a  companion.  If  you  idll  accept  the 
position,  Iicill  make  the  terms  such  as  shall  reconcile  you  to  your 
change.      Yours  truly,  W.  Day." 

Tra.   O  mother,  of  course  you'll  go? 

Mar.  I  do  not  know.  Traverse  dear.  I  shall  weigh  over  this 
matter  to-night,  and  sleep  on  it;  and  He  to  whom  even  the  fall 
of  a  sparrow  is  not  indifferent,  will  in  his  supreme  wisdom 
guide  me.  {She  embraces  Traverse,  and  exits  r.  1  e.)  Music 
"  You'll  Remember  3Ie."  PF.  • 

7)-a.  AVise,  dear,  little  mother!  IIow  my  heart  bleeds  tO'See 
her  grief.  I  trust  she  will  accept  this  ofler;  'tis  for  her  good 
I  am  certain.  And  for  myself,  soon,  with  perseverance  and  in- 
dustry, shall  I  be  in  a  position  to  place  her  above  the  reach  of 
want.  Sweet  be  your  dreams,  good  mother.  Good  night !  good 
night !   {Exits,  l.  1  e.  —  Music  till  change.  — Lights  down.) 

SCENE  3.  —  An  old  oaken  chamber.  —  Latticed  loindoics,  n.  and 
L.  E.,  ivilh  heavy  curtains  to  each.  —  Old-fashioned  fireplace  and 
mantelshelf,  with  clock,  c.  —  Hearth-rug,  icith  trap  -under  ity 
in  front  of  the  fire. .—  Bed,  l.  h.,  idth  curtains.  —  Bureau,  l.  2 
•E..,\cilh  toilet  glass,  tablQ,  c,  toith  supper  on  trgy.  — Bottld  of 
brandy  and  glass. —  Tormentors  on  r.  and  L.  —  Stage  dark.  — 

Enter  Mrs.  CoxDniEXT,  tcith  two  lighted  candles,  r.  n.  d.  1  e.  — 
She  places  them  on  table.  —  Capitola  follows  on  and  crosses  to 
L.  —  Wool,  runs  on  as  if  frightened.  —  ZZe  carries  a  basket  of 
uood  to  kindle  fire,  c. 

Mrs.  C.  Now,  Wool,  build  a  fire  on  the  hearth.  It  will  make 
the  old  room  more  cheerful. 

Wool.  Dar'  say  it  will,  missus ;  but  you  couldn't  kotcli  dia 
chile  sleepin'  in  it.     {Qoes  up  and  lights  fire.) 

Mrs.  C.  Don't  be  a  fool,  Wool. 

Cap.  Why,  what  can  there  be  to  fear? 

Wool.  Ghosts  and  spirits  I 


BcEXE  3.  J  THE  HIDDEN  HAND.  27 

Cap.  Oh,  if  tli.at's  fill!  I've  had  too  much  to  do  with  evil 
spirits  already  to  fear  them  uow.  • 

Wool.  Do  Lord  a  marcy  ! 

Mrs.  C.  Tut,  tut,  you  blockhead  !  Yon'U  be  spoiling  the  rest 
of  Miss  Black,  aud,  like  the  Hidden  House,  she'll  begiu  to  think 
this  is  haunted. 

Cap.  Hidden  House! — haunted!  And  have  you  indeed  a 
haunted  house  in  this  country?     Oh,  that's  jolly. 

Mrs.  C.  Yes,  miss,  tiiere  is  an  old-fashioned  house,  built,  1 
don't  know  how  long-  ai^o, —  the  property  of  the  Le  Noirs,  one 
of  -whom  was  murdered  in  it;  aud  ever  since  it  has  been  said 
to  be  liauntcd. 

Wool.  Dat's  so ;  I  can  swar  to  dat. 

Cap.  Have  you  ever  seen  anything  to  warrant  these  sus- 
picions ? 

Wool  I  believe  you.  Ole  mas'r  was  out  near  dar,  hunting, 
one  day,  and  he  say  he  saw  a  beautiful  fcmale»ghost,  aud  dat 
she  wanished  in  a  blue  flame.  And  den.,  one  time  when  I  was 
coming  by  dar,  I  looked  np,  and  golly,  dar  I  saw  de  debbil 
griunin*  at  me  through  the  window. 
•  Cap.   And  did  you  see  nothing  else? 

Wool.  Golly  I  Cat  was  enough  for  dis  chile.  Don't  cotch 
him  dar  no  more,  I  can  tell  you. 

Mrs.  C.  They  do  say  there's  a  beautiful  young  lady  come  to 
live  there  lately. 

Cap.  A  young  lady !  Then  I  shall  have  a  neighbor,  that's 
some  comfort. 

3Irs.  C.  Yes!  A  poor  young  creature  who  has  lost  both 
fiither  and  mother.  'Tis  a  terrible  dismal  place  though.  I 
wouldn't  live  there  for  all  the  vrorld. 

Caj).  To-morrow  I  will  ride  over  to  this  mysterious  house, 
and  pay  my  devoirs  to  its  new  resident. 

Wool.  Don't  do  dat,  Miss  Catapiller.  I's  a  gone  nigger  if 
you  do ;  for  ole  mas'r  say  I  must  never  lose  sight  of  you  when 
yon  are  out  again. 

Cap.  I  suppose  he  doesn't  want  me  to  know  there  is  such  a 
place  as  the  Hidden  House. 

3Irs.  C.  I  don't  know.  Miss  Black ;  but  the  wild  stories  told 
of  it  ought  to  be  sulliclent  to  keep  you  away  from  it. 

Cap.  That's  the  very  reason  I  desire  to  go.  Pshaw!  do  you 
think  I  believe  the  ridiculous  stories  about  this  house  being 
haunted?  No,  jio;  and  to-morrow  I'll  prove  the  fallacy  of 
your  fears.  There ;  leave  now.  I'm  getting  sleepy,  and  I've 
got  a  terrible  headache. 

3Irs.  C.  Then  a  good  night's  rest  will  refresh  you.  Come 
along,  Wool.  Good-night,  Miss  Black,  and  pleasant  dreams  to 
you.  [Exit,  R.  II.  D.  1  E. 

Wool.  Good-night,  Miss  Catapiller.  Mind  you  don't  slip  de 
bolt  of  dat  ar  old  tmp,  and  tumble  into  de  hole  under  de  rug  dar. 
Yah !  yah !  I  rader  tink  when  I  get  into  bed,  I  shall  smudder  my- 


28  THE  HIDDEN  IIAIO).  [ACT  IV. 

self  iu  dc  clothes ;  den  if  any  of  dc  ghosts  comes  to  my  bcdsido 
dey'll  li:ib  some  trouble  to  get  a  hold  ob  dis  nigger's  ayooI. 
•Good-uight,   Miss   Catapilkr;    good-night.     I's  gone.     Good 
night.     {After  pludcvKj  np  couraye,  exits,  u.  D.  1  e.) 

Ca;>.  Strange!  I  can't  get  this  story  of  the  Hidden  House 
out  of  my  thoughts.  There  has  been  some  great  wrong  done 
to  some  oue,  I'll  be  sworn.  Well,  well,  to-morrow  I'll  ferret 
it  out,  or  my  name's  not  Capitola.  {Sees  supper  set.)  Ah,  my 
little  maid  Pit-a-pat  has  not  forgotten  ray  supper  to-night;  but 
I'm  not  hungry ;  but,  oh  dear,  how  sleepy  I  am.  I'll  go  to  bed; 
but  lirst  let  me  lock  the  door. 
(Lurimj  this,  she  has  taken  off  jewelry ,  and  placed  it  on  bureau. — 

—  Donald  comes  from  behind  curtain  oficindoiv,  R.  n.  r.,  down 
to  R.  II.  door,  1  E.,  locks  it,  takes  out  key,  and  stands  with  back 
to  it,  so  that  as  she  comes  towards  it  sh^  encounters  him.  —  Music, 

—  TAiii.EAU.  —  She  starts  back  in  terror.) 
Don.  You  didu't  expect  mc  to-night,  did  you? 

Cap.  {Has  been  almost  paralyzed  ;  but  after  a  slight  pause  re- 
covers, and  seems  to  have  made  up  her  mind  what  course  to  pur- 
sue. With  forced  calmness.)  Well,  upon  my  word,  I  tliink  a 
gentleman  might  let  a  lady  know  when  he  intends  to  pay  her  a 
visit  at  midnight. 

JJon.  Well,  upon  my  word,  you  arc  cool,  hang  it!  I  admire 
you.  {Goes  up  r.)  You  seem  to  have  made  preparation  for  a 
supper.    I've  a  capital  appetite. 

Cap.  Then  sit  down  and  cat.  Heaven  forbid  that  I  should 
fail  in  hospitality. 

Don.  {sits  and  eats  r.  of  table).  And  arc  you  rcallj  not  afraid 
of  me?    I  might  do  you  some  harm. 

Cap.  But  you  won't. 

Don.   Why  won't  I  ? 

Cap.  Because  it  won't  pay.  Afraid  of  you?  not  a  bit  of  it,— 
I  rather  like  you. 

Don.  {eatinrj).   Come,  now,*you're  running  a  rig  upon  a  fellow. 

Cap.  No,  indeed;  don't  you  remember  the  day  you  were 
here  as  the  pedlar,  that  I  said  I  liked  Black  Donald,  an:l  I 
wished  to  see  him? 

Dun.  So  you  did;  but  I  also  remember  that  when  yoa 
thou:rht  you  had  me  in  your  power,  you  leapt  upon  my  shoul- 
ders like  a  catamount  and  called  for  help  to  secure  mc.  You 
thirst  for  my  blood,  and  yet  you  pretend  you  like  me. 

Cap.  Lor,  don't  vou  know  why  I  did  that? 

Don.  Ko.    Why? 

Cap.  Because  I  wanted  you  to  carry  rao  off. 

Don.  Ha !  ha !  ha !  Well,  I  declare,  I  never  thought  of  that. 
Well  then,  since  you  like  me  so  well,  come  and  give  me  a  kiss. 

Cap.  {shuddering).  No,  no;  I  won't;  not  till  you've  dono 
your  supper,  and  washed  your  beard. 

Don.  I  sa}',  isn't  it  almost  your  hour  for  going  to  bed? 

Cap,  Of  course  it  li. 


Scene  3.]  the  hidden  hand.  n  29 

Don.  TVell,  what  arc  you  waiting  for? 

Cap.  For  my  coinpauy  to  go  liomc,  to  be  sure. 

Dun.  Meaning  mo.''' 

Caj?.   Meaning  you  « 

Dun.   Oh,  don't  mind  me. 

Cap.  I  don't.  (Aside)  My  blood  is  freezing  in  my  veins. 
Heaven  aid  mc,  or  1  am  lost  indeed. 

Don.  Some  brandy,  if  you  please.  (Has  been  imtchinff  her, 
and  lioUlinfj  vp  his  (jlass  makes  this  excuse  to  get  her  near  him.  — 
She  comes  vp  to  l.  of  table  ami  Jills  hiirylass.)  I  say,  I've  been 
watching  you,  my  darling.  You'd  like  to  get  out  oi"  this  room, 
wouldn't  you?  You'd  like  to  hand  mc  over  to  the  Philistines, 
I  know  your  tricks;  so  just  stop  puzzling  your  head  to  baffle 
mc.  You  arc  like  the  cagcl  bird  (rises'and  shows  ken),  you 
can't  get  out.     (Crosses  to  l.) 

Cap.  (tremblinr/).    Have  you  done  your  supper? 

Don.  Yes,  duck.  (»b'Ae  moves  table  towards  i:.  ii.  d.)  AVhat 
arc  you  going  to  do? 

Cap,  Clear  away  the  things,  and  set  the  room  in  order. 
(Places  table  n.  3  k. —  Takes  chairs,  and  fjoes  towards  Jireplace. 
— Aside)  The  trap  I  the  trap! 

Don.   Come,  come,  haven't  you  got  through  yet? 

Cap.  (placinr/  chair  on  trap).  In  a  nioment.  Come,  come 
and  sit  down,  Donald.  (She  takes  the  other  chair,  to  sit  l.  of 
fireplace,  icith  face  to  audience.  Donald  sits  with  back  to  d.  and 
feet  on  fender).  Listen  to  me,  Donald:  men  call  you  a  man  of 
blood;  they  say  your  hands  are  red  and  your  soul  black  with 
crime.  Black  Donald,  they  call  you ;  but  you  have  never  yet 
stained  your  soul  with  a  crime  as  black  as  that  which  you  think 
of  perpetrating  this  night. 

Don.  Yaw-aw !  It  must  be  near  one  o'clock,  and  I  am  get- 
ting sleepy. 

Cap.  All  your  former  acts  have  been  tliosc  of  a  bold  man, 
this  act  would  Ijc  that  of  a  base  one. 

Don.  Take  care;  no  bad  names.  Y^ou  are  in  my  power,  and 
at  m}'-"  mercy. 

Cap.  Donald,  in  all  your  former  acts  your  antagonists  were 
strong  men ;  but  now  it  is  a  feeble  girl  who  is  op])osed  to  j'ou  ; 
to  destroy  her  would  be  an  act  of  baseness  to  which  you  never 
yet  descended. 

Don.  Who  talks  of  destruction?  I  am  tired  of  all  this  non- 
sense. I  mean  to  carry  you  o!f,  and  there's  an  end  of  it.    (Bises.) 

Cap.  Stop!  Sit  down  and  hear  me  for  just  live  minutes 
longer. 

Don.  Very  well.  (  Turns  chair  round,  and  sits  facing  audience.') 
Talk  on  for  a  few  minutes;  but  if  you  think  to  persundo  me  to 
leave  this  room  without  you,  this  night,  you  are  widely  out  of 
your  reckoning,  that's  all. 

Cap.  Donald,  I  have  jewels  here  worth  several  thousand 
dollars :  if  you  will  consent  to  go  I  will  give  them  to  you,  and 
3* 


so  THE  HIDDEN  HANT).  [.aJt  III. 

never  say  one  word  to-morrow  of  what  has  passed  here  to- 
niirht. 

jDo».  WIi}',  how  green  YOU  must  think  me  I  Wljat's  to  pre- 
vent mo  from  possessing  myself  of  your  jewels  as  well  as  your- 
self?    (About  to  rise.) 

Cap.   Sit  still,  the  live  minutes'  grace  are  not  gone  yet. 

Don.  (Joolcs  at  clock).  So  they  are  not.  Well,  I  will  keep 
my  promise. 

Cap.  Doii.-ild.  give  up  this  heinous  purpose.  Man,  for  your 
own  sai\C.  give  it  up. 

L>o}i.  Fo7-inysake!  Ha  I  ha!  ha!  It's  for  my  sake  I'm  go- 
ing to  cnrry  you  otf,  and  make  an  iionost  wife  of  you. 

Cap.  JMau,  have  you  ever  reflected  on  death !  It  might  come 
with  sudden  and  overwhelming  power,  and  hnrl  yon  to  de- 
stmction;  yes,  this  fi'ame  of  yours,  this  glorious  iiandiwoVk 
of  th'j  Crcntor,  might  be  hurled  to  swift  dvstruction,  and  the 
sottl  that  animates  it  dcstrof/cd  without  a  nmincnt's  warning! 

Don.  Bosh  I  If  yon  really  think  me  such  a  liandsome  man, 
why  don't  you  go  at  once  and  say  no  more  a!)oiit  it? 

Cap.   Black  Donald,  will  vou  leave  ray  room? 

Don.   No!  '  • 

Cop.  ;Man,  I  will  give  you  one  more  chance;  pity  yourself  as 
I  pity  you,  and  leave  me. 

Don.  Now  it's  quite  likely  tliat  I  will,  isn't  it?  I  haven't 
watched  and  pUinned  for  this  chance  to  give  it  up  now  that  you 
are  in  my  power;  and  now,  as  the  five  minutes'  grace  are  quite 
up —     {About  to  rise). 

Cap.  Stop  I  don't  move  yet ;  before  you  stir,  say  "  Lord,  have 
mercy  on  me !  " 

Dnn.   Why  should  I  say  that? 

Cap.  Because  I  do  not  wish  to  kill  body  and  soul  together; 
because  1  would  not  send  you  praycrless  into  the  presence  of 
your  Creator. 

Don.  {.starts  vp).  You  have  a  revolver,  then.  Move  but  a 
step,  ami  I  throw  mjself  on  you  like  an  avalanche. 

Cap.   1  have  no  weapon,  —  seel     {Holds  up  both  hands).    . 

Don.   AVliat  did  you  mean,  then? 

Cap.  I  mean  that  your  peril  is  not  to  be  escaped.  Black 
Donald,  you  have  not  a  minute  to  live  !     (Music  PP  tremido.) 

Don.  Well  this.  I  suppose,  is  what  people  call  fine  acting; 
but  yen  musln't  think  to  frighten  me.  So  come,  the  grace  has 
expired    aiui  now  give  me  a  kiss. 

Cap.  Then  let  it  be  the  kiss  of  death;  and  heaven  hare 
mercy  on  your  soul!  {Music,  foi'tc. — Doxai.d  makes  a  step 
ioicdrds  her.  ~-  She  places  her  foot  on  spring  of  trap,  tohicJi  fallSf 
and  he  dii^appears  xcith  a  groan.) 

Cap.  O  God  I  he  is  dashed  to  pieces!  (FaZ^s.— Quick  ciiktaix.) 

End  of  Act  III. 


Scene  1?|  the  iiiddes  illnd.  81 


ACT    IV. 

SCENE  1.  — Exterior  of  the  Hidden  IToiise,  2  g,  cnc*  c  d-fash' 
ionod  mansion  almost  buried  amontj  the  trees.  —  Door,  i..  n.^*, 

—  ]]'i)idoio  above,  c,  to  become  transparent.  — Li/jhts  1-4  down. 

—  Sturm  —  thunder,  rain,  and  lightning.  —  Music. 

CapUola  (icithont).   Whoa,  G3'p,  my  boy!    (Storm  C07itinues.) 

Enter  CAriTOLA,  l.  2  e.,  in  riding-habit,  and  idth  tchip. 

Whew !  tlicrc's  a  flash  !  Good  gracious !  there's  the  lioiise !  One 
would  tliink  that  tliis  was  an  cnclianted  forest,  containiuii-  tho 
castle  of  the  Sleeping  Beauty,  and  I  was  tlie  kniglit  destined  to 
deliver  her.  (Storm  continues.  —  Vivid  lightning.)  Conlbund  it! 
I  slia!!  be  drenched  to  the  skin.  Here  goes  for  the  inside. 
(Knocks.)  No  response!  All  is  silent  as  the  grave  !  Lord  !  sup- 
pose it  sliould  be  liaunted?  Pshaw!  gliosts  or  no  ghosts,  I'm 
bound  to  see  the  inside.  (Knocks. —  Chains  are  In-ard  to  fall 
inside.  —  77ie  door  opens,  and  Doiic.vs  Knigut  appears  at  it  icich 
lighted  lamp.) 

Vorcas.   Who  are  you?    What  do  j-ou  want  h.ere? 

Cap.  Can't  you  sec?  I'm  a  young' woman,  and  want  shelter 
from  the  storm. 

Dor.  Wlien  people  ask  l:ivors,  they  should  do  it  with  a  civil 
tongue  in  their  iieads. 

Cap.  Favors!  Plague  on  you,  I  asked  no  favors.  Every 
storm-beaten  traveller  has  a  right  to  shelter  under  the  lirst 
roof  that  otters. 

Dor.   Who  arc  you? 

Cap.   Capitola  Black,  of  ITurricanc  ITall. 

Dor.  (hastilg).   Capitola,  did  you  say  ?    Capitola? 

Cap.  Yes,  Capitola,  —  you  never  heard  anything  against  it, 
did  you  ? 

Dor.  What  brought  yon  here?  Away!  Mount  your  horse 
and  ily  while  there  is  yet  time. 

Cap.  Not  if  I  know  it.     Expose  myself  again  to  the  storm  ! 

Dor.  Girl!  there  are  worse  tlangers  in  the  world  than  any  to 
be  feared  from  thunder,  lightning,  rain,  or  wind. 

Cap.  Weil,  when  I  meet  them  it  will  be  time  enough  to  deal 
with  them.  Come,  come,  let  me  in;  don't  3'ou  see  I'm  nearly 
drenched  to  the  skin? 

Dor.  J  t  is  madness.    Yon  shall  not  stay  here 

Cup.  But  I  tell  you  I  will!  You  arc  not  the  bead  of  tho 
family. 

Dor.   Capitola,  how  long  have  you  lived  at  IIurrica.uc  Hall? 

Cap.  Long  enough  for  everybody  to  hear  of  me. 

Dor.  Where  did  you  live  before  you  came  there? 

Ca2).  Where  I  learned  to  speak  tho  truth  and  shame  the 
#cvil. 

Dor.  And  to  force  yourself  into  people's  houses  against 
their  will. 


32  THE  mDDEx  ^A^^).  [ifcT  IV. 

Cap.   Wlicn  I  learn  from  the  head  of  the  lionsc  that  I'm  un- 
wcicoine,  tlicn  I  Avill  retreat.     Where  is  your  master? 

Dov.  I  cannot  curse  you  with  the  curse  of  granted  prayer. 
Col.  Lc  Noir  is  away. 

(kip.    Why  do  you  talk  so  strangely? 

Dor..   It  is  my  Avhim.     Perliaps  my  head  is  light. 

Cap.  I  shouhl  tliink  it  was.  Well,  as  the  master  is  away, 
present  me  to  the  mistress. 

Do)\  There  is  no  mistress  here. 

Cap.  Well,  then,  the  young  lady,  — I  mean  the  ward  of  Col. 
Le  Noir. 

Dor.  Well,  as  you  seem  resolved  to  stand  j'our  ground,  I 
suppose  we  must  put  up  with  you. 

Cap.   And  my  horse. 

Dor.  lie  shall  be  taken  care  of.  Come  in.  But  mind,  you 
must  depart  early  in  the  morning. 

Cap.   That's  as  I  please. 

Dor.   Perverse  to  the  last.     Come  in.  lExit,  d.  in  P. 

Cap.  Hooray!  I've  stormed  the  breach.  (Sti/rm).  There 
comes  the  storm  again.  Now  Gyp,  stand  you  there,  there 
(goes  ojf  L.  2  v..)  under  the  shelter  of  this  tree,  until  some  one 
comes  to  care  for  you.  {Storm.)  Aiut  this  a  ripper!  (Music. 
—  As  she  Inrns  to  go  into  the  house,  the  -upper  wiudoiu  becomes 
illuminated  with  white  fire,  and  the  figure  of  the  Unknown 
appears  at  it.  In  her  right  hand  she  carries  a  lamp,  and  her  left 
hand  is  enveloped  in  black,  ichich  she  holds  vp  imcarning  to  Cap-^ 
lTOL\,ioho  starts  back  alnrmed.)  IMercifui  i)o\ver.s !  What  is 
that?  (Figure  disappears.)  That  spectral  ligure,  with  its  Hid' 
den  Hand,  seems  to  warn  me  airainst  cjitcring  the  house. 
Have,  then,  the  ghostly  traditions  of  this  woriil  trutli  in  them 
at  last?  Tsluiw!  am  I  to  be  frightened  by  this?  — never! 
That  poor  lady  looked  more  in  sorrow  than  in  anger,  aiul  who 
knows  but  ghosts  may  be  hospitable?  So  in  1  jto.  Neck  or 
nothing !  .  ^     lExit  d.  f. 

SCENE  2.  —An  apartment  in  the  Hidden  House,  3  G.—An  old- 
fashioned  bed,  with  tapestr;/  curtains  at  back,  c.  —  Toilet-table  and 
glass,  L.  3  e.  —  Easy-chair,  ii.  c— Le  Noik  is  discovered  seated. 

Enter  Clara  Day,  l.  1  e. 

Clara.   Col.  Lc  Noir,  you  wished  to  sec  me.    I  am  here. 

Le  Koir.  JMiss  Day,  the  responsibility  of  a  guardian  is  al- 
ways onerous,  and  his  duties  not  always  agreeable,  especially 
when  his  wardjs  the  sole  heiress  to  a  large  propert}',  and  the 
object  of  pursuit  of  fortune-hunters  and  schemers.  When 
such  is  the  case,  the  responsibilities  of  the  guardian  are  aug- 
mented a  hundred-fold. 

Cla.  Sir,  this  cannot  be  so  in  my  case.  You  have  already 
been  advised  that  I  am  betrothed  to  Dr.  Kocke,  who  wiU 
claim  me  as  his  wife  upjn  the  day  I  shall  complete  my  Lweuty- 
^rst  year. 


Scene  2.]  ttm  hidden  haitd.  83 

Le  K.  No  more  of  that!  It  is  my  duty  to  prevent  you  from  . 
throwing  yourself  away  upon  a  mere  adventurer.  To  do  this 
I  must  provide  you  with  a  suitable  husband.  My  son,  Craven 
Le  Xoir,  has  long  loved  and  wooed  you.  I  approve  of  his  snit, 
and,  as  your  guardian,  command  you  to  receive  him  as  your 
destined'  husband. 

Cla.  Col.  Le  Noir,  I  am  but  a  simple  girl;  but  I  understand 
your  purpose.  You  are  tlio  fortuue-hunters,  —  the  schemers; 
Hut  I  will  die  ere  I  will  wed  with  Craven  Le  Noir.  (Crosses 
toe.) 

Le  K.  Die !  Girl,  there  arc  worse  things  than  death  in  this 
?vorld. 

Cla.  I  know  it !  But  few  things  can  be  worse  than  a  union 
with  a  man  I  can  neither  esteem  nor  endure. 

Le  N.  But  there  are  evils,  to  escape  which,  a  woman 
would  go  down  on  her  bended  knees  to  be  made  the  wife  of 
.mch  a  man. 

Cla.  Infimons !  You  slander  all  womanhood  In  my  person 
*    Le  X.   The  evils  to  which  I  allude  are  a  life  of  dishonor. 

Cla.  This  to  me,  sir? 

Le  N.  Ay !  Girl,  it  is  time  we  understand  each  other.  You 
are  in  my  power,  and  I  intend  to  coerce  you  to  my  will.  I  am 
going  now  to  prepare  the  marriage  license.  I  shall  return  by 
ten  to-morrow.  I  desire  that  you  be  ready  to  accompany  us. 
If  you  would  save  your  honor,  look  to  it.  Let  no  hope  of  es- 
cape dclndc  you.  The  servants  are  in  my  pay.  Look  to  it, 
Clara;  for  the  setting  of  another  sun  shall,  see  my  purpose  ac-/ 
complishcd.  '  lExit,  l.  1  e. 

Cla.  Heaven  help  me !  What  fate  is  in  store  for  me?  Was 
It  for  this,  then,  that  they  forced  me  to  leave  my  quiet  home? 
It  was  for  this,  then,  he  insisted  on-his  legal  rights  as  my  guar- 
disu.  O  my  poor  father,  little  didst  thou  know  the  villain 
thou  hadst  to  deal  with! 

Enter  Dorcas  Knight,  l.  1  e. 

Dorcas.  Here  is  a  young  lady  from  Ilumcane  Hall  come  to 
f«.^  you,  Miss  Day. 

cla.  Ileavcu  has  hoard  my  prayer !    Let  her  come  in. 

Enter  C-ititola,  l.  1  e. 

Cay.  Ju.-'t  w>at.  I  ir  tended ;  (ci'osses  c.)  though  I  must  say  you 
have  \hx>  r:>05t  disa<i:recable  servants  I  ever  met  with.  (  To  Cla.)  : 

Dor.  i^oolish  gin !  i  wai'ned  you  for  the  best.  Have  you 
Dofea'i' 

Cap.  N9\si  Irarurd  the  :^carln.<^of  the  Tro?d.  There,  now, 
make  yourself  scarce;  I  want  to  talk  to  the  yorn3  lady. 

Dor.  AVeU,  wcL !    You'lx  h70  lon«  enough  to  repent  tlris. 

"  [Exa  L   A  B. 

Cap.  I  shall  Hvj  nv  iry  time  ".cm^s,  ol ^  r-onan.  ( To  Clj^^Ml  ) 
But  really  I  fear  this  is  an  iuirusion  ^u  my  part. 


Bi  THE  HIDDEN  HAND.  [ACT  IV. 

Cla.   You  arc  welcome.    You've  been  exposed  to  tlio  storm  ? 

Cap.  Uathew  I  am  Capitola  Bhick.  I  live  with  m}'  uncle, 
flt  Ilnrricane  Hall,  a  tiery  old  chap,  who,  I  dare  say,  about  this 
time  is  raving  about  his  house,  simply  because, — having  heard 
a  beautiful  young  lady  had  become  a  resident  of  this  house,  — 
contrary  to  his  wishes,  I  have  ridden  over  to  see  her.  But  I 
don't  cure  a  fig  for  him.     If  he's  master,  I'm  mistress. 

Cla.   Ah !    You  must  be  very  happy. 

Cap.  Lord  bless  you,  why  shouldn't  I  be?  I  do  what  I 
olease.  It's  true  my  old  governor  and  I  have  a  sharp  fight 
now  and  then;  but  I  always  get  the  best  of  it.  But,  bless  my 
heart,  what's  the  matter, — you  are  ill!  Can  I  be  of  any  ser- 
vice to  j'ou? 

Cla.  Oh,  indeed  you  can  aid  me.  Heaven  has  surely  sent 
you  in  this,  my  hour  of  need. 

Cap.   Tell  me  how  and  what  I  can  do  for  you. 

Cla.  Listen,  then.  My  name  is  Clara  Day.  My  father  died 
within  the  past  month,  and  unfortunately  appointed  Col.  Le 
Noir  his  executor  and  my  guardian, — a  bold,  bad  man,  who, 
in  order  to  possess  himself  of  my  property,  wishes  to  force  me 
into  a  marriage  with  his  son.  Craven  Le  Noir.  For  this  pur- 
pose, he  compelled  me  to  remove  to  this  Hidden  House,  — has 
deprived  me  of  my  friends  in  order  the  better  to  carry  out  his 
foul  designs. 

Cap.   Well,  don't  you  love  the  fellow? 

Cla.  Love  him?  Oh,  no!  My  heart  and  hand  was  long sincb 
given  to  another. 

Cap.   And  that  other  is  — 

Cla.  One  Dr.  Traverse  Rocke,  a  man  who  is  the  soul  of 
honor.  And  now,  by  threatening  me  with  a  fate  worse  than 
death.  Col.  Le  Noir  woultl  force  me  to  marry  this  Craven  Lo 
Noir. 

Cap.  They  would,  eh?  Then,  my  dear,  I  only  wish  I  was  in 
your  place.  I'd  marry  Mr.  Craven  Le  Noir,  just  on  purpose  to 
make  him  know  the  dificrence  between  their  sovereign  lady 
and  Sam  the  lackey.  But  as  it  isn't  me,  the  first  thing  that 
suggests  itself  for  you  to  do  is  to  run  away. 

Cla.  That  is  impossible.  The  servants  are  warned,  the 
doors  kept  fast  locked,  and  I  am  closely  watched. 

Cap.  There  is  only  one  plan  of  escape  left  then,  and  that  is 
full  of  danger. 

Cla.  "Why  should  I  fear  danger?  What  evil  can  befall  me  so 
groat  as  that  which  now  threatens  me?  Teach  me,  dear  Cap- 
itola; I  will'be  an  apt  pupil. 

Cap.  First,  you  must  change  clothes  with  me,  pull  my  veil. 
do^vn  closely,  and  walk  boldly  out  of  the  house.  My  servant, 
Wool,  is  waiting  for  me,  no  doubt,  at  a  respectful  distance. 
You  can  mount  my  horse,  ride  to  your  friends,  and  get  them  to 
prosecute  your  guardian  lor  cruelly  and  abuse  of  authority. 

Cla.  But  you  !  You  will  remain  in  the  power  of  those  who 
know  neither  justice  nor  mercy. 


Scene  2.]  tiie  hidden  hand.  SA 

Cap.  Oil,  never  mind  mc.  Bless  their  wigs,  I  should  like  to 
see  'era  make  mc  blaucli !  How  I  shall  enjoy  tbeir  disappoint- 
ment!    Oh,  won't  it  be  fan! 

Cla.  Heaven  bless  3'ou,  dear  Cap'itola. 

Cap.  Don't  thank  me.  It's  I  that  should  thank  you,  for  af- 
fording mc  such  a  fine  opportunity  for  a  frolic.  Bat  come ;  you'll 
excuse  me,  for  I'm  fagged  out,  and  these  clothes  are  none  of 
the  drycst ;  the  sooner  I  change  them  the  better  for  my  consti- 
tution. 

Cla.  Oh,  pardon  me !  In  the  contemplation  of  my  own  sor- 
rows, I  forgot  you  had  been  exposed  to  the  storm  so  long. 
In  yonder  closet  a'ou  will  find  clothes  of  mine.  They  are  sure 
to  fit  you. 

Cap.  Oh,  never  fear  mo.  I  can  accommodate  my  figure  to 
anytliing.  It  won't  be  the  first  time  that  I've  worn  clothes 
that  didn't  belong  to  me. 

Cla.  I  will  leave  you  now.  (Crosses  to  l.)  You  must  want 
rest,  also.  I  shall  sleep  in  the  room  below  this.  Shoald  you 
need  anything,  rap  on  the  floor :  I  shall  hear  you. 

Cap.  Little  fear  of  my  disturbing  you.  I  sleep  like  a  top,  I 
can  tell  yon.  I'll  just  take  a  snooze  for  a  couple  of  hours  or 
so,  tlicn  come  to  your  room,  get  you  outside  of  the  house,  then 
return,  to  finish  my  nap  before  breakfast. 

Cla.  Heaven  bless  you,  Capitola !  An  orphan's  prayers  be 
with  you  ever.  (They  embrace.  —  Music.)      \_ExU  Claua,  l.  1  e. 

Cap.  Now,  I  -wonder  what  my  old  governor  is  about  now, 
I'll  wager  a  sixpence  there  won't  be  much  peace  at  the  Hall  to- 
night. Well,  it  can't  be  helped.  I  forgot  to  say  a  word  to 
Clara  about  the  poor  creature  I  saw  at  the  window.  (Yaions.) 
Now,  if  this  house  should  be  haunted,  and  that  should  be  one 
of  the  citizens  of  the  other  world.  (Yawns.)  Well,  I'm  not 
going  to  be  frightened  oat  of  my  sleep,  ghost  or  no  ghost ;  and 
as  that  old  bed  looks  very  inviting,  here  goes.  Sits  on  bed,— 
yawns.)  Clara's  oft'!  What'U  they  (yawns)  do  to  me?  Hal 
ha!  ha!  Won't  there  be  fun !  I'll  show  'em  —  (yawns)  tricks 
{ —  (yawns)  learnt  in  Rag  Alley.  (Taivns,  lies  doion,  and  sleeps. 
—  Music.  —  Curtain  at  hack  becomes  transparent. —  The  Un- 
i'nown,  clad  in  ichite,  imth  lamp  in  her  hand  is  seen  through.  — 
She  advances  close  to  bed,  raises  her  hand  over  C.vtitola  ;  then 
disappears  and  returns  on  stage,  through  l.  d.  f.  —  She  ad- 
mnccs  slowly  to  toilet-table ; places  lamp  upon  it;  sees  ring ;  takes 
it  up,  kisses  it  afeclionately,  and  places  it  in  her  bosom;  then 
goes  slowly  to  the  bedy  and  bends  over  CAriTOLA.) 

Enter  Le  Noir,  l.  1  E.,  followed  by  Dorcas.  —  He  starts  on  seeing 
the  Unknown. 

leN.  (aside  to  Dorcas).  Curses  on  it,  she  will  discover  all. 
(Music.  —  Takes  off  his  cloak,  and  xcith  Dorcas  advances  catt- 
fioM.j'?/  to  the  bed.  —  Throws  his  cloak  over  the  Unknown,  to  drown 
her  streams,  and  bears  her  off,  struggling  and  screaming,  l.  1  e.) 


36  TUE  niDDiir  hand.  [Act  IV. 

Cap.  {lifter  they  are  of  loUh  Uxitn-own,  l.  1  e.,  tcaJces,  startt 
tip).  Eli,"whar, —  save  iier!  — save  her!  — ha!  ha!  ha!  Lord, 
twas  only  a  dream;  but,  oh,  real  it  seemed  to  me!  (Scream 
L.  II.)  What  was  that? -reality,  — then  it  was  no  dream. 
(Scream  heard.)  There,  again!  Some  deviltry  is  afoot;  let 
me  at  ouce  to  Clara  and  learn  the  truth.  [Exit,  hurriedlij,  l.  1  e. 

SCENE  3.  —  Exterior  of  the  Hidden  House  2  G.,  as  before.     Stage 

(lark.  — Door  is  opened  cautiously,  and  Chssxx,  dressed  in  Capi 

tola's  habit,  and  carrying  a  riding-whip,  enters  from  house. 

Music,  pp. 

Cla.   Thank  Heaven  I  am  without  the  walls  of  this  hated 

mansion !     Oh,  may  Heaven  bless  and  reward  my  heroic  Capi- 

tola !    Now  for  the  servant  Wool.     Should  he  have  quitted  his 

post,  —  but,  no,  he  dare  not  lose  sight  of  her.    Hist !  hist !  hist ! 

Enter  Wool,  quicJdy,  l.  2  e. 

Wool.  I'se  on  hand.  Miss  Catapiller;  j'ou  needn't  tink  dis 
chile's  goin  to  get  his  eyelids  skinned  by  losing  sight  of  you. 

Cla,  {in  a  subdued  voice).  Where's  the  pony,  Wool? 

Wool.  Down  behind  de  trees,  dar.  Oh,  you  does  right  to 
keep  your  face  kivered;  it's  awfnl  windy ;  I  can  scarcely  keep 
de  hair  on  my  head.  (Clara  crosses  to  l.)  Which  way  is  you 
going  now,  Miss  Catapiller? 

Cla.   Towards  Tip-Top. 

Wool.  What  de  mischief  is  you  gwau  dar  for?  (Clara  raises , 
whip  to  him.)  Dar,  dar,  I'se  done;  I  won't  ax  you  any  more 
questions,  not  if  3'ou  ride  to  old  Nick,  or  Black  Donald,  cither. 

Cla.  Now,  Wool,  remain  you  here  on  the  watch.  Do  not 
follow  me. 

Wool.  What,  and  get  my  eyelids  skinned?  Oh,  de  Lord,  dis 
gal's  determined  to  be  the  death  ob  me !  I  know  it  just  as  well 
as  nuffin  at  all.  I  'clar  to  man  if  it  aint  nuff  to  make  a  nigger 
go  heave  himself  into  a  grist-mill,  and  be  ground  up  at  ouce. 

Cla.  {as.<i7iming  her  own  voice).  Wool,  Wool,  ride  back  to 
Hurricane  Hall  and  tell  Major  Warfield  that  Miss  Black  remains 
at  the  Hidden  House,  in  great  danger.  Haste !  haste !  Good- 
by,  and  God  speed  you !  {Hurnes  out,  l.  2  E.  Wool  stands' 
horrified  till  she's  off,  then  hurries  out). 

Wool.  Dis  nigger's  dead  and  buried.  Young  missus  changed 
from  a  catapiller  to  a  butterfly.  Hallo !  —  murder !  —  help !  -^ 
stop  de  coach !  —  stop  do  bosses !  —  ole  massa'U  kill  me  if  J  lose 
sight  of  her!  Stop  her!  —  stop  de  debil  dat's  transinogrifled 
h^.  [Exit  after  her,  crying  murder,  &c. 

SCENE  4.  —Interior  of  Eural  Chapel.  —  Small  altar,  c.  —  Or* 
gan  music.  —  A  minister  discovered,  c.  —  Col.  Le  Noir  on  l. 
—  A  small  number  of  spectators,  v..  and  l. 

Lt  Notr    I  told  you,  sir,  as  our  bride  was  an  orphan,  recently 


Scene  4.]  the  hidS en  uaitd.  S? 

bcreayed,  and  still  in  deep  raoarnins,  we  wished  the  marriage 
ceremony  to  be  strictly  private;  yet  here  I  find  a  score  of  peo- 
ple.   How  is  this?  ^, 

rriest.  Sir,  these  people  arc  farm-laborers.  They  can  cer- 
tainly be  no  interruption  to  the  ceremony. 
Enter  Cn^VE^  Le  Nom,  R.  1  e.,  conductinrj  CAriTOLA,  icJio  is 
dressed  in  Clara's  dress  of  Scene  2.  —  She  is  veiled.  —  Craven 
crosses  to  L.  c. 
Speak,  Craven  Lc  Noir !  TVilt  thou  have  this  woman  to  be  thj 
wedded  wife  as  long  as  thou  both  shalt  live? 

Craven.  I  ^-v WW  ,     ,       ,         ^,  .  r  ^^\.^ 

rriest.  And  thou,  Clara  Day,  wilt  thou  have  this  man  for  thy 
wedded  husband? 

Cap-  Not  if  I  know  it. 

Le  N.  What  does  this  mean?    Who  nre  you,  girl? 
Cap.  (throics  off  veil).    Capitola  Black,  your  honor's  glory! 
(Courtesies).  .         «    „  ^,  .   .> 

Crav.  What  the  foul  fiend  is  the  meaning  of  all  this? 
Cap.  (pultinrj  thumb  to  nose).  It  means  that  you  can't  como 
if  it's  no  go;  this  chicken  won't  light;  (imts  both  hands  to 
nose)  the  fat's  in  the  lire;  the  cat's  out  of  the  bag;  the  plays 
over ;  the  curtain's  going  to  drop :  and  the  principal  pertormer, 
that's  me,  is  about  to  be  called  out,  amid  the  applause  of  the 
audience. 

Crav.   S'death !     We  are  foiled !  „  ,     , 

Cao.  A  precious  pair  of  knaves  you'd  be,  if  you  had  sense 
enough;  but,  failing  in  that,  you're  only  a  pair  of  fools.  Good 
people,  (to  spectators)  I  claim  your  protection,  while  I  teh  you 
the  cause  of  mv  presence  here. 
Le  N.  Don't  listen  to  her.  She's  a  maniac. 
Cmv.  Stop  her  mouth  at  once.  {They  both  seize  her.  —  She 
screams  for  help.  —  They  endeavor  to  droicn  her  voice  by  holding 
her  mouth.  —  At  this  moment  Ukrbkut,  followed  by  W'  ool,  enters 
rapidly,  l.  u.  e.  —  Throws  Col.  Li:  Noiu  to  l.,  and  Wool  throws 
■CnwKV  to  R.,  who  starts  back  to  hit  AVool,  icho  butts  hnn  tdl 
curtain  doim.  Cavitola  throics  her  arms  around  IIeiujert. 
Picture.  —  Quick  curtain), 

Ent)  op  Act  IV. 


Act   V. 

SCE:NE  1.  — J/msjc,  *^  Little  More  Cider."  —  riantation  at  Hurri- 
cane HalU  (IS  before,  except  that  the  fountain  is  moved  up  to  Ihinl 
e.,  and  trough  from  R.  2  e.  removed. 
Enter  Hurricane  and  Mrs.  Condbient /rom  'touse,  r. 
4 


449i:^i> 


88  THE  HIDDEN  nAND.  [ACT  V. 

Hurricane.  I  tell  yon,  Mrs.  Condiment,  something  must  bo 
done,  or  this  girl  will  be  the  death  of  me.  If  she  were  a  boy, 
I'd  thrash  her;  but  what  can  I  do  with  a  girl? 

Mrs.  Condiment.  Lock  her  up  in  her  chamber  till  she'a 
brought  to  reason. 

Hur.  Dcmme,  she'd  jump  out  of  the  window  and  break  her 
neck.  Besides,  she's  such  a  way,  and  dlsobe)''s  me  in  such  a 
cajoling  way,  that  I  couldn't  give  her  pain  if  her  soul  depended 
upon  it. 

3Irs.  C.  You  should  try  moral  suasion. 

JIar.  When  I  do  she  laughs  in  my  face.  I  wish  to  keep  her 
until  she  is  of  legal  age,  and  I  don't  want  her  to  fall  into  the 
hands  of  a  perfidious  guardian  until  I  can  bring  proof  of  his 
rascality. 

Mrs.  C.   Then  this  girl  has  received  foul  play  from  her  friends. 

Hur.  I  should  think  so.  Gabriel  Lc  Xoir  has  very  nearly  put 
his  neck  into  a  halter.  Listen,  Mrs.  Condiment.  Sixteen  years 
ago  the  Hidden  House  was  occupied  by  old  Victor  Le  Xoir, 
who,  dying,  bequeathed  to  his  eldest  son,  Eugene,  the  whole  of 
his  property,  with  this  proviso:  that  should  Eugene  die  with- 
out issue,  the  property  should  descend  to  his  younger  son,  Ga- 
briel Le  Noir. 

Mrs.  C.   An  equitable  will. 

Hur.  Eugene  shortly  afterwards  presented  to  his  neighbors 
a  young  and  lovely  creature  as  Madame  Eugene  Le  Noir.  Poor 
Eugene!  He  did  not  long  enjoy  her,  for  one  morning  he  was 
found  murdered  in  the  woods  near  his  own  house. 

Mrs.  C.   And  the  murderer? 

Hur.  Was  never  discovered.  Madam  was  never  seen  abroad 
after  her  husband's  death.  It  was  reported  she  had  lost  her 
reason.  However,  Eugene  having  died  without  issue,  Gabriel 
stepped  at  once  into  possession  of  the  whole  estate. 

3Irs.  C.   Yes,  something  of  this  I  have  heard. 

Hur.  Very  likely;  but  what  you  have  not  heard  is  that  three 
months  after  the  death  of  her  husband  Madame  Eugene  gave 
birth  to  twins,  one  living,  the  other  dead.  The  dead  child  was 
privately  buried ;  the  living  one,  together  with  the  uurse,  the 
sole  witness  of  its  birth,  was  abducted. 

Mrs.  C.   Great  heavens !     Can  this  be  true? 

Hur.  True  as  gospel.  You  remember  the  night  I  was 
dragged  out  of  my  bed  to  see  old  Nancy  Grewell? 

Mrs.  C.   I  do,  indeed. 

Hur.  From  her  I  received  the  information  which  induced  mo 
to  visit  New  York.  She  was  the  nurse;  and  the  child,  the 
heiress  to  this  great  estate,  is  none  other  than  Capitola. 

Mrs.  C.   Capitola!    Good  gracious ! 

Hur.  Now,  you  see  my  ol)ject  in  endeavoring  to  keep  her 
witliin  bounds,  or  this  atrocious  scoundrel  will  contrive  some 
plan  to  make  away  with  her,  in  order  that  he  may  retain  the 
estate. 


SCBirE  J.]  THE  HIDPEN  IIAN1>.  39 

Mrs  C    This  accounts,  then,  for  Black  Donald's  Tisit  here. 
Ilur    It  does.     But  tlicre  is  some  satisfaction  in  knowing 
that  the  rascal  didn't  break  his  neck  in  falling  through  the  trap, 
lescrving  it  for  the  hangman.    His  execution  is  to  take  place 
to-morrow 

Enter  CAriTOLA,  l.  u.  e. 
You  — vou— you  New  Yorkboy!  —you  foundling!— you  vag- 
abond!-you  brat! -you  beggar! -will  you    never  have 
sense,  or  will  you  keep  continually  running  your  head  into 
daii""cr'  , 

Ccm.  Why,  nunkey,  that's  nothing  new.  I'm  only  doing 
what  you've  done  a  hundred  times;  but  come,  now,  I've  got 
sometl-.ing  to  propose  to  you.  I  can't  bear  the  tjionglit  of  be- 
iuo-  the  cause  of  that  poor  fellow.  Black  Donald's,  death;  that 
I  was  the  means  of  hurrying  him  to  such  a  fate. 

mr  Ah!  that  reminds  me  that  the  reward  offered  for  Ins 
apprehension  was  paid  over  to  me.  I  have  placed  it  to  your 
account  in  bank.  ,    .,,      j.-,  ■  ^   ^f 

Car).  I  don't  want  it!  I  won't  touch  it!  -the  price  of 
blood !  -  it  would  burn  my  fingers !  Uncle,  it  must  be  dread- 
ful, this  hanging,  and  I  declare  I  won't  have  it.  1 11  write  a 
petition  to  the  governor,  and  go  round  to  get  the  signatures 
myself.  . 

JIur.  You  won't  get  a  soul  to  sign  it. 

CoiJ.  Well,  then,  I'll  go  to  the  governor,  and  ask  him  to 
pardon  Black  Donald. 

Ilur.  The  Governor  won't  do  it  to  save  all  our  lives ;  and  if 
he  did,  he  might  whistle  for  his  re-election. 
Cap.   And  yet,  I  declare  this  man  shall  not  die. 
Hur.  Phew!  there  is   a  Don  Quixote,   ha!  ha!  ha!     Shell 
delTver  him  by  the  strength  of  her  own  arm.     Come  along, 
Mrs.  Condiment,  and  harkce,  you  baggage  you.    If  you  go  on  m 
this  manner  youUl  break  your  old  uncle's  heart.     It  you  were  a 
bov  I'd  thrash  you  within  an  inch  of  your  life;  but  as  you  are 
a  girl,  I  love  you  so  well  that  if  harm  should  come  to  you  the 
old  man  would  sink  into  his  grave  with  a  broken  heart.     So 
think  of  that,  you  outlaw!— you  imp  of  inischicl!  — you  — 
vou  —    Demme,  I  don't  know  what  to  call  you ! 
•  ^  {Exit  into  hoitse,  ii.  ii.,  icith  Mns.  Coxddient. 

Cap.  But  still  he  said  Black  Donald  should  be  hung.  I  was 
th'^  cause  of  his  being  arrested,  and  I've  the  best  right  to  save 
him  if  I  can. 

Enter  Wool,  l.  n.  e. 

Wool  Miss  Catapiller,  here's  a  letter  for  you. 

'      Cap.   A  letter  for  me?   (Takes  and  opens  it.)   Why,  I  declare. 

It's  from  Cousin  Stone.    {Ikads)  ''My  dear  cousin,  — 1  must  icarn 

you  of  a  man  calling  himself  Craven  Lc  Xoir.     At  a  party,  the 

other  night,  he  mentioned  your  name  diparayinghj.  Knowing  you 


40  THE  HIDDEN  HA^^>.  [Act  \. 

to  he  as  innocent  as  a  lamb  of  the  charges  he  made  against  yon,  1 
took  the  liberty  of  giving  him  a  sound  thrashing  ;  for  \chich  he  has 
politely  challenged  me  to  meet  him,  in  order  that  he  may  have  a 
shot  at  me,  Now,  as  lam  not  a  duelling  man,  I  shall  decline  the 
invitation,  hut  shall  take  advantage  tf  the  next  time  I  meet  hird  to 
repeat  the  chastisement  I  have  already  given  him.  Tours,  in  haste, 
C.  Stone."  So,  so,  —  Craven  by  name,  Craven  by  nature.  He 
shall  bite  the  dust  for  this.     Wool,  can  you  shoot? 

Wool.  I  radcr  tiuk  not.  Miss  Catapiller.  I  tried  it  oncck  Shot 
at  a  crow  and  killed  a  boss. 

Cap.   Where  are  my  uncle's  pistols? 

Wool.  Golly!  what  you  gwan  to  do  wid  'em?  You  aint 
gwan  to  shoot  ole  massa,  is  you  ? 

Cap.  I'll  teach  this  wretch,  that,  girl  though  I  am,  he  has 
woke  up  the  wrong  passenger;  but  first  I'll  see  poor  Donald 
Wool,  saddle  my  pouy,  Gyp,  at  once,  and  hark  ye,  if  you  dare 
to  say  one  word  to  any  person  about  it,  I'll  have  your  skin 
taken  ofi'  and  made  into  cowhides  to  lash  you  through  the 
world  for  the  rest  of  your  days.  [Exit,  l. 

Wool.  Golly  !  I'se  sartin  dey'll  be  de  death  of  me.  How  dis 
nigger  would  look  wid  a  cowhide  made  out  ob  his  own  skin 
ruuuing  arter  him  through  the  world.  Wool !  Wool !  you  is  iu 
for  it.  Golly!  how  savage  she  look!  Yah!  yah!  'minds  me 
of  ole  mas'r  when  he  shied  de  curricomb  at  my  head  toderday. 
O  Wool!  Wool!  you  is  a  gone  nigger  for  sartin.  Yes,  I 
believe  you.  lExit,  l.  1.  e. 

SCENE  2.  — Music,  ''Massa  in  the  Cold,  Cold  Ground."  — In- 
terior of  cell.  —  Black  Donald,  heavily  manacled,  totters  on  l. 
1  E.  —  He  is  much  emaciated  and  scarcely  able  to  drag  himself 
along.  • 

Donald.  Curses  on  them  all !  Y''et,  why  should  I  curse  her,— 
that  girl?  Did  she  not  act  boldly  and  bravely?  She  did  !  she 
did !  And  I  love  her  for  it,  though  little  did  I  suspect  her  on 
that  fatal  night,  when  she  plunged  me  through  the  trap,  crush- 
ing and  breaking  all  my  bones.  But,  thanks  to  a  stout  heart 
and  a  strong  constitution,  I  have  recovered,  and  to-morrow,— 
pah!  I  must  not  think  of  to-morrow;  though  the  crowd  shall 
find  that  if  Black  Donald  has  lived  a  bad  man,  he  can  die  a 
brave  one ! 

Enter  Catitola.    (During  speech  she  wears  hood  and  cloak.) 

Cap.  Donald  Baync ! 

Don.  You  here!  I'm  glad  you've  come,  my  little  one.  I 
wanted  to  tell  you  that  I  was  never  guilty  of  murder,  and  I  only 
consented  to  your  death  to  save  3'our  life.  Do  you  believe  mc? 
On  the  word  of  a  dying  man,  I  speak  the  truth. 

Cap.   I  do  believe  you. 

Don.  God  bless  you,  little  one  I 


Scene  2.]  the  hidden  hand.  41 

Cap.  Can  you  say  God  bless  mc,  Tvbcn  it  was  I  who  put  you 
here? 

Don.  Tut,  tut,  child !  The  outlaw  bears  no  malice.  Spite 
is  a  civilized  vice.    It  was  a  fair  contest,  and  you  conquered. 

Cap.  Donald,  I  have  done  everything  tliat  I  could  to  save 
your  life ;  I  have  tried  all  other  means  iu  vain ;  there  is  but  one 
left. 

Don.  (Qmcl-Ji/).  Is  there  one? 

Cap.  Tiiere  is.  Use  well  the  life  I'm  about  to  give  you,  else 
I  shall  be  chargeable  with  every  future  sin  you  commit. 

Don.  In  the  name  of  mercy,  girl,  do  not  hold  out  a  false 
hope.    I  had  nerved  myself  to  die. 

Cap.  But  yon  were  not  prepared  to  meet  your  Creator.  Lis- 
ten, Donald,  here  are  tools,  with  the  use  of  which  you  must  be 
acquainted.  They  were  found  in  the  woods  near  the  Hiddeo 
House.     (Gives  bag.)     Will  they  do? 

Don.  {opens  it).  Yes,  yes !  With  these  I  can  file  off  my  irons, 
pick  every  lock,  and  dislodge  every  bar  betweeu  me  and  free- 
dom. But  there  is  one  thing  you  have  forgotten,  girl.  Sup- 
pose a  turnkey  or  a  guard  should  stop  me?  You  have  brought 
me  no  revolver  I 

Cap.  Not  to  save  you  from  death  would  I  have  done  so.  I 
give  you  the  means  of  freeing  yourself,  but  it  must  be  done 
without  the  shedding  of  blood  ! 

Don.  You  are  riglit,  girl !  you  are  right! 

Cap.  Here  are  a  thousand  dollars,  and  when  you  have  picked 
vour  way  out  of  this  go  to  the  old  mill;  you  will  there  find  my 
horse.  Gyp.  Mount  and  ride  for  your  life  to  tlie  nearest  sea- 
port ;  from  thence  you  can  escape  on  ship-board  to  some  for- 
eign country. 

Don.  God  bless  you,  brave  girl ;  and  may  Heaven  forsake  me 
if  I  do  not  heed  your  advice ! 

Cap.  I'll  conceal  your  tools  and  your  money.  The  guard  is 
at  the  door.  I  leave  you, — good-by, — and  again  I  say, 
"  Heaven  redeem  you,  Donald  Baync !  "     {Exit  l.  u.  e.) 

Don.  I  don't  know  how  it  is ;  but  that  girl  has  raised  a  feel- 
ing in  my  heart  that  tells  mc  I  am  human  yet.  Good  girl !  Just 
at  this  time,  too,  when  I  had  given  up  all  hope.  Witli  these 
files  and  picks  I  can  free  myself  from  this  accursed  hole.  I 
long  for  the  free  air  again;  and,  once  beyond  these  walls,  Cap- 
Itola,  thou  Shalt  find  that  Donald  Bayne  will  redeem  himself. 
The  poor  outlaw  shall  yet  live  to  walk  erect  in  the  proud  con- 
sciousness of  being  a  repentant  and  an  honest  man.  {MusiCy 
**  Life  on  the  Ocean  Wave:')  [Exit  ii.  1  e. 

SCENE    LAST.  —  T/iC    roadside.  —  A   portion    of  plantation 
seen.  —  A  finger  post  with  sign,  "  To  Tip-Top,'*  u.  e.  l. 

Enter  Craven -Le  Noir,  l.  u.  e. 
Craven.  Tnily  t^n  exciting  adventure.     The  idea  of  a  elrl 


IS  *  THE  HIDDEN  HAND.  [Acr  V. 

challenn^In^  a  gentleman  !  Why,  the  world's  becoming  so  com* 
plctely  changed  that  I  shouldn't  wonder  if  the  Avomeii  usurped 
our  positions  in  it.  Now  it  is  possible  this  Capitola,  whom  I 
candidly  confess  I  love  for  her  money,  may  accept  the  terms  I 
ofi'ered  as  the  condition  of  my  meeting  her.  If  so,  my  fatlier's 
hopes  will  be  fulfilled.  If  uot;  why,  Craven,  my  boy,  you'll 
have  to.  look  elsewhere  for  something  to  carry  you  safely 
tbrougli  this  vale  of  tears. 

Enter  CAriTOLVj  hastily.  —  Slie  hrings  two  revolvers. 

Cap.  Mr.  Le  Noir,  — 

Cra.  Yonr  most  obedient,  Miss  Black. 

Cap.  I  liappen  to  be  withont  father  or  brother  to  protect 
me  from  aflVont;  I'm  therefore  under  the  novel  necessity  of 
fighting  my  own  battles.  I  sent  yon  a  note,  demanding  satis- 
fjiction  for  the  slander  you  circulated  against  me.  Your  reply 
added  insult  to  injur}'.  You  do  not  escape  punishment  so. 
There  arc  two  pistols,  —  both  are  loaded,  —  take  either  one  you 
choose.  We  have  met,  aud  we  do  uot  part  until  one  of  us 
falls  I 

Cra.  Miss  Black;  as  the  challenged  party,  I  have  the  choice 
of  arms,  time,  and  place.  I  made  that  choice  in  my  note  to 
you.  When  you  accede  to  the  terms  of  the  meeting,  I  shaU 
endeavor  to  give  you  all  the  satisfaction  yon  demand. 

Cap.  AVhat!  That  base  insult  again?  {Throws  pistol  down) 
Take  up  that  weapon  and  defend  yourself! 

Cra.  I  most  respectfully  decline.  Miss  Black.  You  arc  cer- 
tainly a  most  charming  young  lady;  but  — 

Cap.   Mr.  Le  Noir,  I  give  you  one  minute  to  decide. 

Cra.  I  have  already  decided.  (Capitola  fires  rapidly  the  six 
barrels  at  him.  —  He  falls.) 

Enter  IIutjiicaxe,  ^Ins.  CoxDniExr,  and  Wool,  r.  u.  e.— 
Wool  catches  Crwe^. 

ITitr.  What  the  devil  does  all  this  mean? 

Cap.  Ouly  that  I've  been  chastising  a  craven  that  insulted 
me. 

Uar.  Demmc  !  You  New  York  newsboy !  Will  you  never  bo 
a  woman  ?  Why  didn't  you  tell  me  ?  I'd  have  cailcd  him  out, 
and  thrashed  him  to  his  heart's  content ! 

Cra.  Stay!  Let  me  speak.  Let  uo  harm  come  to  Miss 
Black  on  my  account.  Life  is  ebbing  fast.  I  acknowledge  the 
great  wrong  I  have  done  her.  I  slandered  her  in  revenge  for 
her  rejection  of  my  suit.    Let  me  die  at  peace  with  all. 

Cap.  (crosses  to'c.)  Don't  die  yet.  You've  all  heard  Mr. 
Le  Noir's  dying  speech  and  confession.  Now  be  sure  you're 
right,  —  th'jn  go  ahead.  Is  there  no  one  here  cool  enough  to 
rerici;'.  ti.at  if  1  fired  six  bullets  at  that  man's  forehead  I  should 
have  blown  his  head  into  pie? 

Jliir.  What  do  iou  meau?  Answer  me !  you  wild,  infatuated 
rowdy,  you ! 


Scenes.]  the  hidden  h.vnd.  43 

Cap.  Why,  you  sec,  I'd  made  up  my  mind  to  teach  Lc  Koir 
a  lesson,  and  not  ivisiiin;?  to  add  more  to  my  catalogue  of  sins, 
I  withdrew  the  bullets  from  the  pistols,  and  in  their  place  sub- 
stituted — 

JIur.  Wtat? 

C'«j).  Bi-ied  peas!  Ha!  lia!  Iia!  {^All  hurst  out  laugiimfj . — 
Craven  v:alks  np  and  down  enrarjed.)- 

Cra.  Laughcdat  and  mocked  by  her!  O  fool!  But  I'll  be 
revenged  on  her  yet.    Major  Warfleld,  I  — 

Ilur.  Dried  peas!     Ha,  ha,  ha! 

Cra.   Miss  Bhick,  I  — 

Cap.   How  did  you  like  the  dried  peas?    Ha!  ha! 

Cra.  I  shall  choke  with  rage.  I  — I  (^Encounters  Wool, 
T  ^  2  E.^j  

Wool.  Dried  peas!  Yah,  yah!  {Cr.KWE:s  pushes  him  aside  and 
exits,  L.  1  E.)  ^„  .         , 

Wool.   I  believe  vou.  lExit,  L.  1  E. 

Hur.  Wliy  the  devil  didn't  you  pepper  him  with  something 
sharper  tlian  dried  peas? 

Cap.  Couldn't  come  it,  nunkey.  Hadn't  the  least  idea  of 
getting  scraijgcd  on  his  account. 

Hnr.  Scragged!  You  slang-bird!  Ill  — I'll  — I'll  have  you 
married  at  once;  for,  deramc,  I  can  make  nothing  out  of  you. 
You  shall  marry  Herbert  as  soon  as  he  returns. 

Cap.   You  give  your  consent,  eh,  uncle? 

Hur.  Of  course  I  do.  Though  I  suppose  you'd  marry  with- 
out it,  if  I  didn't. 

Enter  Herbert,  l.  u.  e. 

Cap.   O  Herbert,  I'm  so  glad  you've  come. 

Herbert.  Capitola,  I  bring  you  joyful  news.  Black  Donald 
has  escaped.  " 

Cap.  {aside) .  Thank  Heaven !  But  poor  Gyp,  —  I  shall  never 
see  him  again. 

Enter  Wool,  l.  u.  e. 

Wool.  O  massa  major,  I'se  just  been  down  to  de  stable,  and 
golly,  Fleetfoot  done  and  gone. 

Hur.  What!  my  best  horse  missing? 

Wool.  I  believe  you.  But  Gyp  was  in  his  stall,  and  around 
his  neck  was  dis  bag  of  money  and  dis  ere  paper. 

Hur.  (takes  and  reads).  "  Three  hundred  dollars,  to  pay  for 
Fleetfoot'.    Black  Donald,  reformed  robber,'* 

Cap.   Brave  heart ! 

Hur.  Then  the  devil-dash  the  robber  has  escaped;  but  I'll 
not  get  in  a  rage  to-day  about  it.  Herbert,  my  boy,  I  received 
your  letter,  with  the  proofs  you  had  obtained  of  my  poor  wife's 
innocence.    I  have  already  sent  for  her  and  my  son. 

Her.  (crosses  to  him).  Yes,  sir,  and  here  is  the  written  confes- 
sion of  Col.  Le  Noir,  whom  I  left  on  his  death-bed,  in  which 


14  THE  HIDDEN  ^A^^>.  [Acr  V. 

he  says  lie  sonprht  to  win  the  affections  of  Marah  Eocke,  but 
that  she  repulsed  and  avoided  him.     {Crosses  l.) 

Hur.    My  poor  wire. 

Her.  TIku  lie  bribed  her  maid  to  admit  him  to  her^charaber, 
on  the  niijlit  thit  you  found  him  there  ;  and  that  iu  .hatred  and 
shame  he  Ibrebore  till  now  to  make  this  confession. 

Cap.  Oh  I  you  terrible  old  man,  was  this  what  you  meant, 
■vrhon  you  thrcateuod  to  put  somebody  over  my  head? 

Iliir.  No.  no,  Capitola,  though  to  keep  you  in  order  I'll  do 
so  now,  —  better  hue  than  never. 

Her.  There  is  still  more  in  the  confession,  which  concerns 
you   Capitola. 

Cap.  Concerns  me!  I  must  be  getting  some  importance  in 
the  play. 

Her.  He  confesses  to  the  deception,  wrongs,  and  persecu- 
tions practised  upon  Madame  Eugene  Le  Koir,  your  mother. 

Cap.   My  mother! 

Her.  That  he  caused  h^r  to  be  confined  in  the  Hidden  House, 
and  circulated  the  report  of  her  death.  Grief  for  the  loss  of 
hiT  husband  and  child  almost  bereft  her  of  reason.  She  was 
permitted  to  wander  about  the  house  at  will,  in  order  that  her 
mysterious  appearance  might  corroborate  the  suspicions  that 
the  house  was  haunted.  On  the  night  that  you  slept  there  she 
wandered  to  ycur  chamber,  when  Le  Noir,  fearing  that  all 
would  bo  discovered,  caused  her  to  be  conliued  in  a  private 
mad-house. 

Cap.    And  does  she  still  live? 

Her.    She  does. 

Cap.   O  crickey  !  how  happy  I  feel  to  think  I  have  a  mother. 

Her.  Means  have  already  been  taken  for  her  release.  In  a 
few  days  she  will  be  here  to  join  us.  But  see,  uncle,  here  is 
Traverse  and  your  wife ! 

Enter  Tr-vverse,  ^Iarau  Rocke,  and  Clara  Day,  l.  1  E. 

Hur.   Marah! 

Mar.  Husband!  (Crosses  anc2  throics  herself  into  his  arms. 
Traverse  r/ets  on  r.) 

7"rav.   Father! 

Hnr.   Sou! 

Cap.  There's  a  splendid  tableau;  who's  going  to  embrace 
rae? 

Wool,  {down  L.)  I'se  on  hand,  Miss  Catapiller.  (Her.  dnves 
him  vp.) 

Hur.  Marah,  can  you  forgive  me? 

Mar.  Ay,  and  forget,  too.  For  years  in  silence  I  have 
waited  for  this  day !  "Heaven  has  smiled  upon  me,  and  I  am 
happy. 

Cap.  I  say,  uncle,  Herbert  wants  to  follow  your  example, 
and  —  and  — 

Hur.  Get  married,  eh  !  "Why,  he's  a  boy  of  twenty-five,  and 
a  fool  to  take  a  wife  at  his  asa. 


Scene  3.]  tiie  hidden  hand.  45 

Cap.  Not  worse  than  taking  a  wife  at  your  age,  —  an  infant 
of  sixty-six. 

JIur.   Bother!     Well,  you're  both  of  age,  do  as  yon  please. 

Cap.  Just  what  wa  intend  to.     {Goes  to  lIi:ni5i:iiT). 

Uar,  Traverse,  my  boy,  you  love  Miss  Day,  take  her  and  bo 
happy,  both.  {Joins  their  hands.)  And  now,  you  vagabond, 
you  biat,  you  vagrant,  you  beggar,  you  are  the  sole  heiress  of 
the  Hidden  House  estate,  and  all  its  enormous  Avcalth. 

Caj:).  Nunkey,  don't  mock  me.  I  don't  care  for  wealth  or 
pnwer;  but  tell  me  if  the  parents  possessing  both  cast  their 
child  to  meet  the  perils  and  sufferings  of  such  a  life  as  mine? 

ILir.  "We  have  all  been  the  victims  of  one  villain,  —  Gabriel 
Le  Noir,  —  to  morrow  Herbert  will  tell  yon  all,  to-day  we'll 
devote  to  pleasure.  We'll  have  a  triple  wedding,  and,  demme, 
all  get  married  together. 

Wool,  {down  L.)  Hold  on  massa,  here's  Tit-a-pat  here.  (She 
enters,  l.  u.  e.)  She  is  dying  for  a  husband,  and  if  you've  no 
objections  I'll  take  her,  and  make  a  quartette  of  it. 

Her.   AVhat,  Wool,  you  want  to  get  married? 

Wool.  Yes,  I  believe  you. 

Caji.  Then  our  play  is  ended.  Miss  Day,  you  have  got  the 
.man  of  your  choice.  Uncle,  I  congratulate  you  on  your  recon- 
ciliation to  yours,  for  now  I  shall  have  less  i'ear  to  soothe,  and 
make  a  respectable  old  man  of  you.  For  myself,  Herbert,  if 
you  love  me,  there's  my  hand,  and  under  yoiir  manl>j  protection 
may  I  never  have  cause  to  regret  the  step  that  I  have  talceu,  oi 
wish  for  the  days  to  return  when  I  wore  the  habits  of  the  — 
"Poor  Newsboy."    {Music). 

CUBTAIN  ON  PiCTUEB. 


SOUTHWORTH,  Emma    (Dorotliv  Eliza  Ne- 
vitte).  novelist,  was  boru  Dec.  26,  1819  in  Washing- 
ton, D.C.,  where  she  received  an  excellent  education. 
An    early    marriage    with    Frederick    8outhworth 
resulted  \infortunately,   and  slie  was  compelled  to 
become  a  teacher  in  the  public  schools  of  Washing- 
ton in  order  to  support  herself  and  an  infant  boy 
and  iiirl.     She  commenced  her  caieer  as  an  author 
by  wl-iting  short  stories  for  tlie  Baltimore  "  Visitor." 
Her  first  serial  story,  "  Retribution,"  was  published 
in  the  "  National  Era"  of  Washington  in  1847.     It 
was    afterwards    republished    in    book    form    and 
attracted   much   attention.     Henry   Peterson,    pub- 
lisher   of    the    Philadelphia    "Saturday    Evening 
Post,"  then  the  leading  story  paper  of  the  country, 
was  impressed  by  her^growing  power  and  invited 
her  to  become  a  contributor  to  his  columns.     She 
accepted   his  invitaiion,  and  for  several  years  con- 
tributed  to  the   "Post"   serial   stories  which   Mr. 
Peterson  afterward  reprinted  in  book  form.     When 
Robert  Bonner  purchased  the  New  York  "  Ledger" 
he  secured  her  exclusive  services  as  a  contributor  to 
that  journal,  and   this   arrangement    continued  for 
more   than   thirty  years.     From   1857  to  18G0   she 
resided  in  England.    For  many  years  she  was  a  resi- 
dent of  Georgetown,  D.  C,  but 
in    1876   reni^oved  to  Yonkers, 
N.  Y.,  where  she  purchased  a 
pleasant  home  in  which  she  has 
.since  resided.    During  her  long 
and  exceedingly  prolitic  career 
as  an    author  *^she  has  written 
and       published       sixty-eight 
novels.     The   most   popular  (»f 
these  are  "The  Deserted  Wife," 
"The  Mother  in-Law,"  "Curse 
of   Clifton,"    "The    Discarded 
Daughter,"    "The   Lost    Heir- 
ess,"   "Lshmael,"    "Self-Rais- 
ed,"   "Only   a   Girl's    Heart," 
"The   Trail    of  the    Serpent," 
and  "The  Hidden  Hand."  The 
latter  in  a  dramatized  version 
was  for  many  years  exceedingly  popular  on  the  P^ng 
lish  and  American  stage.    ]\Irs^  Southworth's  stories 
are  located  for  the  most  part  in  ^Maryland  and  Virgin 
la.    They  display  great  ingenuity  in  the  construction 
of  plot  and  charac-ter,  and  good  descriptive  powers. 
They  all  have  a  distinct  moral  purpose.     Previous 
to  the  civil  war  Mrs.   Southworth  was  an   ardent 
abolitionist,  and  by  her  writings  greatly  aided  that 
cause.     She  is  a  woman  of  refined  sensibilities,  and 
a  brilliant  conversationalist,  and  is  greatly  beloved 
in  private  life. 


UNivi 


of  CALIFORNIA 


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37. 


3S. 


39. 


42. 


';   43. 


46. 


4'J. 


50. 


51. 


SPENCER'S  univehsal  stage. 


I>iainond  cut  TMamond.     An  In- 

Torlu'lu  in  <Jue  Act.  liy  W .  H.  Mur- 
ray,    lu  -Alale,  1  t'eniale  character. 

1.00 k  after  Bro-^vn.  A  Farce  in 
One  Act.  By  George  A.  Stuart, 
M.  D.    <5  Male,  1  Female  character. 

>Iousei{;neur.  A  Drama  in  Three 
Acts,  liy  Thomas  Archer.  15  Male, 
3  Female  cliaractcrs. 

A  very  pleasant  flveaing.  A 
Faroe  in  One  Act.     By  \Y.  E.  Suter. 

3  Male  characters. 
Brotlier    Ben.      A   Farce    in    One 

Act.     By  J.  M.  Morton.    3  Male,  3 
Female  characters. 
Only   a   Clod.    A  Comic  Drama  in 
One  Act.  By  J.  P.  Simpson.  4  Male, 

1  Female  character. 
Gaspardo    the     Gondolier.     A  ■ 

Drama  in  Three  Acts.  By  George 
Almar.  10  Male,  2  Female  charac- 
ters. \ 

Suusliine  through  the  Clouds.  ' 
A  Drama  in  One  Act.     By  Slingsby 
Lawrence.    3   Male,  3  Female  char- 
acters. ' 

Don't  Judffe  by  Appearances. 
A  Farce  inDne  Act.  By  J.  M.  Mor- 
ton.   3  Male,  2  Female  characters. 

IVuvsey  Chiclcweed.  A  Farce  in 
One  Act.  By  T.  J.  Williams.  4 
Male,  2  Female  characters. 

Mary  j»Ioo ;  or,  "Which  shall  I 
Marry?  A  Farce  in  One  Act.  By 
W.  E.  Suter.  2  Male,  1  Female 
character. 

Kast  ILiynue.  A  Drama  in  Five 
Acts.    8  Male,  7  Female  characters. 

The  niddeu  Hand.  A  Drama  in 
Five  Acts.  By  Robert  Jones.  Itj 
Male,  7  Female  characters. 

Silverstone's  "Wager.  A  T  ommedi- 
etta  in  One  Act.    By  R.  R.  .Andrews. 

4  Male,  3  Female  characters. 
Dora.     A  Pastoral  Drama  in  Three 

Acts.     By  Charles   Reade.    5  Male, 

2  Female  characters. 

Blank.s   and  Prizes.     A  Farce  in 

One  Act.      By    Dexter    Smith.      5 

Male.  J  Female  characters. 
Old  Gooseherry.     A  Farce  in  One 

Act.     By  T.  J.  Wiiliam.s.    4  Male, 

2  Female  characters. 


53.  Who's  "fl'ho.  A  Farce  in  One  Act. 
By  T.  J.  Williams.  3  Male,  2  Fe- 
male characters. 

54.  Bouquet.  A  Farce  in  One  Act.  2 
Male,  3  Female  characters. 

55.  The  Wife's  Secret.  A  Play  in 
!•  ive  Acts.  By  George  W.  Lovell. 
10  Male,  2  Female  characters. 

56.  The    Bahes     in    the  Wood.      A 

I  Comedy   in   Three   Acts.    By   Tom 

I  Taylor.     10  Male,  3  Female  charac- 

I  ters. 

57.  Putkins  :  Heir  to  Castles  in  the 
Air.     A  Comic  Drama  in  One  Act. 

j  By  W.  R.  Emerson.    2  Male,  2  Fe- 

male characters. 

58.  An  I'gly  Customer.  A  Farce  in 
One  Act.    By  Thomas  J.  Willjnms. 

'  3  Male,  2  Female  characters. 

59. 


Blue  and  Cherry.  A  Comedy  in 
One  Act.  3  Male,  2  Female  charac- 
ters. 

60.  A  Doubtful  Victory.  A  Comedy 
in  One  Act.  3  Male,  2  Female  char- 
acters. 

e.'j..  The  Scarlet  r.etter.    A  Drama  in  (p 
Three  Acts.    8  Male,  7  Female  char- 
acters. 

62.  Which  will  have  Him  P  A  Vau- 

deville.   1  Male,  2  Female  charac- 
ters. 

63.  Madam  is  Abed.    A  Vaudeville  in 

One  Act.    2  Male,  2  Female  charac- 
ters. 

64.  The  Anonymous  Kiss.  A  Vaude- 

ville.   2  Male,  2  Female  characters. 

65.  The   Cleft    Stick.      A  Comedy  in 

Three  Acts.    5  Male,  3  Female  char- 
acters, 
m.  A   Soldier,  a  Sailor,  a  Tinker, 
and  a  Tailor.    A   Farce  in  One 
Act.    4  ilalc,  2  Female  characters. 

67.  Give    a  Dog    a    Bad    IVame.     A 

Farce.   2  Male,  2  Female  Characters. 

68.  Damon  and  Pythias.    A   Farce. 

t.  Jlale,  4  Female  characters. 

69.  A  Husband   to   Order.     A  Serio- 

comic Drama  in  Two  Acts.   5  Male, 
3  Female  characters. 

70.  Payable  on  Demand.     A  Domes- 

tic  Drama  in  Two  Acts.     7  Male,  1 
Female  character. 


^^j^iCiaQO 


Price,  15  cents  each.    Descriptive  Catalogue  mailed  free  on  application  to 
GEO.    M.    BAKER    A    CO., 

Nos.  41-4S    Franklin  8tre«t,  Boftoa 


H 


^' 


OB.  J 


IT 


SJ 


University  of  California  Library 
Los  Angeles 

This  book  is  DUE  on  the  last  date  stamped  below 


JUL  1  7  2000 


OUE  2  WKS  FROM  OA 

III-  H^n 


E  RECEIVED 


•oas'sonv  iaAao:a 


rm  L9— 4 
CWeAtl 

A  Teiider^fTtsreinirnir 


7  cnar,  «  •  x^ 
The  Th-ief  of  Time.  6  chnr.  ...  15 
Tlie  Ilypoclioncliiac.  5  char.  .  .  15 
A  Public   Benefactor.     6  char.    .   .    15 

The  lluna-ivays.     4  char 15 

Coals  of  Fire.     6  char. 15 

WwTPD    A  Male  Cook.     4  char.   ...    15 
Troubles      8  char 15 


leiiuue  uiaiai.ii.1. — >».»'»■■ 

Bonbons  ;  or,  The  Paint- King.  3  ni  ' 

I  female  character 

The   Pedler    of  Very    Nice.      7  "' 

characters 

.Ax    Original    Idea,      i  male,   1  fern 

character. 

Capuletta  ;    or,    Romeo  and    Julii 

Rf.stored.     3  male,  1  female  cnaract 


TEMPJEJtAyCE    I'JECrS. 

'.E  Last  Loaf.     5  male,  3  female  character:^ 
;e  Tempter.     3  male,  i  female  character. 


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3  1158  00919  8499 


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